The Come Back

If you come back, I’d cover the kitchen countertop with sweet honey. I’d warm up your favourite donuts in the palm of my hands. I’d sprinkle poems on the inside of every cereal box you finish. I’d pour you a glass of lemonade, directly from the sun. I didn’t mean it when I told you to leave me alone, it didn’t come out right. Do you close your eyes next to someone new these days? Because if you do, I don’t blame us. It’s just - come to my window. Come find home. I’d like to make you the fajitas you like, I’d pour you a tall glass of coke. I’ll tell you between bites: I didn’t mean it, I never felt it. And if you come back, there will be tulips on every workspace. And to clarify, when we both didn’t say we were done; did we really mean it? And, if you did come back, I’ll sit crossed legged on the cool floors to watch you. What I mean is, is this forever? It’s June soon. I’d hand stitch ‘I’m sorry’ a million times to your beanie. I’d stop listening to Taylor Swift on repeat. I’d tell you I made it through another day at work (even through I drive home crying because I miss you). I think of that tattoo, the one you said was for me. And think of us if we adopted a dog. I trace my own fingers until I swear I can feel yours. So - knock for me, climb through my window, kick down my door. If you come back, we’ll smash strawberries against champagne and toast them for breakfast. I’ll stand swaying against the kitchen sink and you’ll stand close behind me, your hands on my hips. I’ll tell you about that terrible driver who ran the red light, I’ll tell you everything I’ve bookmarked for you to live. Everything I could have said, everything I should have been. Soon it will dusk, and my hands will reach out for you. The sky is orange, let the hum wash over us. A peach in your pocket and lyrics in my hair; this time I’ll be better; this time I won’t let go.