~ “What would you do if I just showed up there? How would you explain me?” ~
The underlying tone of his questions is hard to decipher. It’s something between a challenge and hurt. The hurt of a scenario that has been run, outcome decided and heart broken and it’s a tone that feels like a thread of searing pain, taking a stitch in my heart.
The silence on the telephone line that follows doesn’t last longer than the wavering inhale I take to frame my answer but in that span, my doorbell rings…
his beloved frame in my doorway and the expression of love, longing and hope in his eyes.
the force of him bridge the few centimetres between us and unhinge my knees.
my name on his lips as he steps over the sill to grab me into his arms.
his mouth on mine, flavoured with the mix of our tears.
Much later under the soft caress of summer breeze from the ceiling fan, bodies entwined on rumpled sheets, the answer to his question drifts through my mind…
~ I would tell anyone who asked, that the piece of my heart given away so long ago, had finally found its way home to me. ~