i have been writing poems to you
for an hour- scrawled prayers in black ink
to bring you home.
you returned in the middle of the last one
and i was so shocked at my wish granted
that i gasped,
and you stared at me because i stared at you
i wanted so much to scream your name
and fling myself on your tiny body
and kiss every minute i had lost back into your skin–
but you told me you were leaving
your return was a maybe
and it hurt so much that now
i just want to punch you,
and i am capable of neither.