I miss you coming home to me.
The rush I felt those last few moments right before I saw your face.
The keys jingling, the door opening, and then leaning into you.
My smile never wider, my eyes never brighter.
The best part of my days was what I shared with you.
Now the afternoons and evenings come, and I sit silently.
Warring with myself over what the sound of your footsteps used to be.
Written 12.15.10 @ 1:40 AM
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