Episode 97: Until You Come Home

Until You Come Home I ache for the moment when we can simply be us, unraveled by distance, uncurled by time’s insistence. Let the hour arrive where hands find their map anew, where every touch redraws the familiar lines into poetry. You occupy my thoughts, my dreams, my heart; I long for you, and my pulse quickens in anticipation of the moment you come home to me. My love, I miss you. Until then, I listen for your steps in the hall, for the sound of your breath easing into mine, for the small rituals—coffee steam, a shared smile— that stitch the day’s fragments into a single thread. When you return, let the world fall away: the clock, the noise, the ordinary glare of daylight, and leave us in the soft gravity of your embrace, where every whispered promise is a dawn. Let me learn your mouth anew in the language of patience, let me memorize the warmth of your hand in the dark, let the quiet deepen until it feels like home— not a place, but a compass, always pointing true. And if the night keeps its own pace, if distance keeps score, we will write our own counter-melody in the margins of time: two voices, one pulse, a shared breath that never breaks.Written by https://www.threads.com/@lifeispoetrytoo This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com