Too many. Far too many.

Tonight.

You come home. Well, its more my home than your's. I wish you'd feel that home is where I am. But you don't. Is my home where you are? I don't know. I don't know if I have a home. I have a place I live in. Customs and habits I have been comforted with. But a home? I don't know. The rooms I occupy, from the bedroom that has been mine for over 10 years, to the office room I have occuppied for over a year now, seem to suffocate me. I have no windows and there is too much clutter. I feel the need to run out into the sun right now. But I know if i keep running I won't feel less lost than I am here.

Tomorrow, will be the first time since I've known you, that you will be home, but you're no longer mine. Mine to tease, hug, to call "my man". Mine to wrap my weekend plans, mine to text first thing when I get home, mine to facetime and watch Game of Thrones with.

Mine to kiss tenderly, a quick peck on the lips, just the way you took me by surprise at the airport before we parted ways. The last time I saw you.

The last few days play by like a movie trailer constantly in my head. Cuddled in with a Dr.Pepper tshirt. Hugging me and thanking me in the elevator when we left one of the most breathtaking skylines in the world. Making me promise that I will see you again once we left, before you took my waterproof pouch. Even that little fight in the plane where we made up immediately and again, you quickly kissed me on the lips, your way of telling me everything will be alright. Your way of showing me you have feelings.

If this ever got to you, would you scorn my emotional cycle? Or will you take me into your arms and never let me go?

Don't let me go. I know you don't want to. Why does reality have to encroach on our private agendas?