Letter to Home
Word after words;
Alphabets by arrangements.
On wet inks,
paper things,
drying in shilouetts.
Words I wished.
Kisses I missed.
I want you to know;
I want you to know,
what I miss.
What I wished.
What I missed.
—
Moon after moons;
Cold bones after the sunset.
A wet heart,
by the dark,
drying inside a blanket.
Nights I wished.
Touches I missed.
I want you to know.
I want you to know,
what I missed.
What I wished.
What I miss.
—
Rain after rains;
Calmness after the warm sun.
Sky of blue,
something new,
drying a God’s lost one.
Sun I wished.
Love I missed.
I want you to know.
I want you to know,
what I miss.
What I wished.
What I miss.
—
Second after seconds;
the moving life’s in rewind.
On a busy street,
by Spring’s heat,
drying this teary mind.
You, I wished.
Smiles I missed.
I want you to know.
I want you to know,
what I missed.
What I wished.
What I miss.
—
Word after words;
Feelings of this human way.
On deepness,
to be selfless,
drying by your lip’s bay.
Love I wished.
Life I missed.
I want you to know;
I want you to know,
what I miss.
What I wished.
What I miss.
—
I’m coming home.
I’m here,
I’m home.