This Place Where I Live

The reasons to be with you are endless, as they’re useless. The truth is, there is no why and there is no how; we just have to be.
If conjuring you up was any effort, I’d be entirely spent. But I’m not.
Your scent is stronger than any sight in the back of my mind ever triggered. Your laughter is more potent than any humour ever swapped.
But, I still come undone, I still look from beneath wet eyelashes for your concrete warmth to sink into.
And let go, let it all go because that’s what you do when you’re home.

Painting: The Decemberists by Carson Ellis

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