the longing to have been there

all along, beside him.

to belong on every mouth 

and every-body,

to belong inside every person he’s ever been inside of.

“i was there.” i tell myself

“i’ve always been there.”

don’t dilute 

don’t sever

you are all that he has loved in others,

he has seen you in their smiles,

their legs, their hair.

he has loved the clouds, 

and you 

have always been part of them.

don’t forget your vastness

your glow.

“the sun.” he said, “that’s what you remind me of.”

on more serious nights 

he has called you the moon.

on colder nights

he said, you were lava.

every other day,

he calls you his wife.