years of animosity

competition, and

(at times) even hatred

set aside for a time of need.

sitting down for a meal at the

end of a long day,

finally opening doors to

rooms that desperately need

airing out.


like Christmas

only better.

the early morning sounds of

bare feet on hollow floors,

tortillas frying, becoming my favorite food

one morning at a time,

sitting with my feet pulled up under me,

meeting your eyes every chance I get,

the hidden sun at the perfect angle and

you face lighting up,

welcoming me home for the first time.


how am i expected to

when my dreams are filled

with normal,

or what normal used to be?

sitting and talking,

grabbing hands as we

walk into a new place


instantly feeling more confident,

asking about music and

sharing side conversations,

secret glances only we can interpret.

so how am i supposed to close my eyes

knowing you won’t be there

when they open?