,

I bear the brunt of that dream again;
two meters apart, but you’re still quaintly a decade in the past.
Mother says I have a hard time of letting things go,
maybe that’s why my childhood
was in the shape of longing.

I put on all your favourite songs, read all your favourite books,
watch all your favourite movies, annotating all the slivers
I think would have stirred something in you.

&

In this moment:
you're just as I remembered,

(time has not driven a wedge between us)

You're still you.
I’m alive again.

There are no parts of me that feel segmented,
foreign, as if I were a ghost
nibbling on memories
of what once was.

In that dream,
in that fever dream,
everything is okay, I’m home
we’re home,
we’re all home.