i watch you yearn

well, since i last wrote you read my mind and searched my soul.  you asked and i told and i wondered and you illuminated. 
sometimes i don’t have to enumerate my needs and you meet them.  so we made it through two more weeks.

10 days passed without your body and mine pressed together and i wondered, is it me or is it our pair of stuffy noses and sore throats?  but it was good, a hiatus.  we spoke in crowded rooms and let silence lounge between us during long drives.  and we held our own, asked politely not to be shouted at, and figured out how to prevent late evening arguments that inevitably led to walking out the door into the snow.  i bend under the pressure you place on me, but you know where i stand.  thankfully, you’ve chosen not to break me.

* * *

this week, i watched your eyes glisten in a stadium among 20,000 other homesick mexicans. i heard your voice break in ecstasy at a concert that brought childhood back into your face.  and baby, i know you’re not at home here.  it hurts to watch you yearn so openly.