I miss you - Come home
I'll wake up each morning,
A dull ache in my side.
I hear the room door open
And wait for you to come
Throw yourself on top of me,
A mumbled good morning or a groan
Before insisting we go
For those walks you subject me to.
We'll hear the tv playing - it's been on for a while,
We'll both get up, scurrying our way
To where we find mom sprawled on the couch,
Tucked beneath a blanket
With a gaze so thoroguhly unimpressed
(Yet smiling just the same)
Now that her quiet is invaded, disrupted like a pop.
We'll lounge around until it's time to get done,
I'll be shoved to my room, with a promise of a walk
I never wished to take part in.
Throughout the day I am subject to messages,
Calls and tags from the same people
Of which resides in this house.
I'll wake up each morning,
A piercing ache in my heart.
The room door opens,
But it's not you walking in.
It's wavery greetings, and nods of 'you're up'
That never feel quite the same.
The kettle doesn't boil like it did back home -
Nobody asks for coffee the moment they hear it.
The radio is playing, the tv soft and dull,
Nothing I care to listen to
Or scurry to join in on.
My phone stays quiet - there's no constant messages,
No calls and demands that I check it.
I stick to a room that is both mine and not,
Wondering when 'normal' will ever feel like it is.
My normal is now subject to missing you,
Wishing for a text - even wishing you were here
Just to be mad for things that were never my fault.
I miss you...
So please pick up the phone.
Please answer my calls,
And tell me when you're coming home.
Tell me when you're coming home;
We can go home together.
Copyright © Micheala Ruth September | Year Posted 2025
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