Coming Home

Another day—just like the other day—I woke up, and Hannah’s gone.

Hannah’s clothes, they used to rest in a suitcase by the door. But not anymore.

Hannah sneaks into my life, walking out just as fast,

Traveling the length of the east coast through a whirlwind, spinning through my head.

Now, long-distance conversations make up for the time we’d spent alone.

Locked in a freight train, heading down the wrong tracks.

A sight for sore eyes, and the windows too smudged to see my wave.

I’d hoped she’d come home from New York and take back the time we’d lost.

The snow falls this time of year, and I’d hoped Hannah would come home for good this year.

No more long nights alone.

No more long drives home.

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