I Thought You Were

The world looks different from the air, the sun shines at a different angle. The blood in my veins still races with adrenaline, with all the pressing tasks on the to-do list hovering over my shoulders, but the list is a thousand miles away now, and that which wasn't done will have to wait. Your phone buzzes incessantly with longing, with images of those whose faces you soon will see, whose arms in which you soon will rest. Anticipation tingles in your every nerve. Soon, soon, below this cloud cover is a land in which the sun will not set. Soon, soon, you will lean into that space from which you came, which still whispers your name. In your chest already beats the bittersweet sting of separation, of not being able to live in two worlds at once, of always being incomplete.

For a short while, in ignorant bliss, you thought it made you a richer person to belong in so many places, to have jewels of people dotted like a fine necklace all around the globe and to fit right in like a spy undercover. But you are tired now, you are sad, and the tears where you've left others behind are still raw, heal jaggedly. You are a patchwork of makeshift fixes.

You are broken beyond repair.