your keys don’t hang next to the door
it is 3.30 when I go to bed tonight
My thoughts lingering on you as I rest my head at last.
you came for a visit today.
our hands entwined, face pressed up against your shoulder.
your lips curve like the perfect bow as I press mine to your skin.
I know that your skin is the colour of milk.
And yet I still marvel at it,
I will always recognise your scent.
Warm and familiar. Like home.
Not quite.
Your toothbrush long gone from its spot next to mine
The smell of your shaving cream no longer lingers in the bathroom and your keys don’t hang next to the door.
You are not home. But I really wanted you to be.
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