come back.

The rains have moved back in, and there is solace in overcast skies again. They have come back along with the cold of early mornings, and the accompanying desolateness of daybreak when it is still dark, when I hold my pillow close in despair of that fervent want for warmth. I remember the singularity of your embrace as having the same effect of being home again.

There is the feeling of being adrift again as the constellations I knew have moved, as reality has shifted ever so slightly in some places and a major upheaval in other places. The feeling of dislocation only gets stronger now and I have pull to some of myself back in, as there is a feeling that there are some parts of me that I will never get to be familiar again; and for the longest time in days I have been waiting for some thing inside me to thaw, for some part to move, for gears to turn again, for the feeling that I'm fading only keeps on getting stronger these days.

The weariness gets stronger, and I don't bother with sighs anymore; but at night I still look at the stars and whisper to them endearments or pleas, perhaps both, and in differing intensities.

I know like the rains, I have to come back.