i romantically stand outside your window and hold up my iPhone to blast our song. a 30 second ad plays first
Is it because his hands feel like home?
Is it because he smells like the summer
your grandfather passed?
Or the spring your first nephew arrived?
Is it because he has your father’s smile
before the recession, before the fire
before your mother left?
Is it because his eyes are flecked with
a familiar glint of playful,
a stroke of confident
a whimpering brave?
Is it because he holds you as steadily
as the house shakes on Christmas morning?
Is it because he kisses the reckless out of you
feeds you the warmth of the sky,
melts away the lonesome?