3 months.
You disappeared
without warning,
no note,
no explanation.
But I found you
in the middle of the Middle East
in the house where you were born,
rediscovering your roots?
“Something like that,” you tell me.
Then I realised,
you were not looking ahead,
you were looking back.
You tell me that things would have been different
if you had just walked away from your father’s world.
“This is what I made of myself!”
But it is not who you wanted to be,
a ballerina was your childhood dream,
written on a list buried deep in an orchard.
“This little girl was strong,”
yet so is the woman standing before me,
having witnessed more things than a soul should ever see.
You thought going back to your roots
would assuage your guilt
of all the things you have done,
but the universe was begging you
to wipe the slate clean,
begin again.
You tell me I should not have come,
but I tell you that you are not alone,
the only way I know how.
“I just want you to come home with me.”
I know it’s hard
and I know you want to change,
but I can change with you,
and as I place a kiss upon your fingertips
I wonder
is there anything more I can do to stop you
from wanting to stay?
Is there anything more I can say?
No,
of course not.
Your mind is made up.
Something which
is difficult to change.
My heart is aching
because I want you with me
need you with me,
as you have been for the last eight years,
as I become the person I want to be.
My whole world revolves around you.
I don’t know how it works any other way.
I sit on the plane and journey home,
alone
wondering if I’ve made a mistake.
It is then I find your necklace
buried deep in my pocket,
it is not a heart-shaped locket
but it might as well have been,
because I know what this means.
We did not say those three famous words,
though we felt them with our souls:
“I’m fighting for you.”
“I know.”
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