right where you left it,
a couple of months ago.
your scent is still between my sheets
from the last time you slept here.
cold rainy days
remind me of your face,
looking for something greater.
you are now seeking and finding
to fulfill that longing,
across the atlantic.
you sing with your new guitar,
as the people nearby loan you an ear,
and toss a few crumbled pieces in the case beneath.
your old guitar sits
in the corner of my room,
beckoning for me to do something with it.
paint it, play it, use it.
i love you.
across the atlantic,
7 hours ahead,
your head rests on a pillow,
and i long to run my fingers through your hair.
your voice lingers day and night in my head,
and i miss you.
each day is closer to the end,
and these days are long without you.
and Lord i hope things get better.
you are admiring the seas,
and climbing stone steps,
breathing in the history from years before.
my cry is that you would just come back,
and sweep me off my feet,
or take me back with you.
you are miles for this moment,
as i cry out for your warmth.
across the atlantic,
i wait with a smile on face,
anxious for my love.
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