I know you think I don’t miss you
but I do.
Like the way we wake from a dream
head foggy, floating
bodies warm and wrapped in blankets
hands curled into fists like children
longing to fade back into where we were
just a moment before.
Take me back to this: flying
above the Chicago skyline
people like specks of dust
lights like summer fire flies
and wings as my arms.
Take me back to toes in the sand
or last night, when I first drifted to sleep
and could read minds, thoughts like crickets
bouncing in front of my eyes.
I know you won’t believe me
when I say I miss you.
So I’ll keep dreaming
but I hope it’s you who wakes up.
 

Featured Image Credit: Roberto Nickson