Every Road Leads To You

Every morning I wake up reaching for you, and for one half-second, my hand expects warmth. Then the empty side of the bed reminds me how many miles sit between us, and I start counting the days again. But here's what I want you to know: the distance doesn't shrink you in my heart. If anything, it makes you more vivid, more impossible to forget, more mine.

I fill the silence with letters like this one, pressing words into the space where your voice should be. Sometimes I reread your old messages just to hear you again in my own head. And I keep believing that every night apart is a night we're storing up, a debt the universe will repay in mornings spent tangled together under the same ceiling. Until then, I'll keep writing you home.