When I lose my direction, I look up. I trust
in the unknown, the way I always have
even when I didn’t quite know I had your hand
to hold. I don’t know where you’ve run
off to. If you’re watching the stars
and if they look the same wherever you are.
Sometimes I imagine the way your lips
always tasted like both freedom
and familiarity and how your hands
carved new beginnings into my skin.
At night, in the moments between wake
and sleep, I pray. For what I have,
for what I’ve lost, for what lies somewhere
in-between, and for
you. Always you.
At night, when the clouds cover the moon
in a haze of blue and gray
and my eyes blink wildly
in the darkness,
I look for you
in the sky
and pray you’ll come back