I write for sleepless nights, flashing lights,
Themed dreams, days of caramel and cheese,
Calm spirits, bubbles of joy, and tears that stream.
Measuring reasons, weighing them against each other,
But they do not balance.
Home is here, and home is far,
There will be pieces, little strips
Of myself spread in many places now,
Muscles pulling, hair strung,
Words left behind.
Mostly I write for peace
I can’t seem to find
Till I can smell you again,
Warm myself in your scent and your love.
Words will have to do for now.
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