I miss you.
If I could be born again, I'd be a bird outside your window. Tap. Tap. Tapping. At your windowsill, monitoring you. Watching you, eyes gleaming.
If I could be born again, it would be to awaken within your arms. Your warmth, your smile; a new day to dawn, just for you and I.
If I could be born again, I would be holding you and you would be holding me and oh what a pleasant dream that would be.
Some days I think "We'll always be like this, so far away." Maybe you'll be in your sixties and we'll be the same as we are now. If that's the case to be, then I can't say any moment means any less. If only, it means that much more. If anything, I hope we never change the status quo unless to entangle our fingers and further this tale of dreams ungotten. Only, being closer is the only change I'd desire but anything else is territory uncharted and what a frightening place to be. I fear one day you'll forget me and I'll remember the hazel of your eyes and the gravel that was your voice. I am forever adrift at sea and you are my northern star, my lighthouse in the dark, and my end which be my home.