I hear three knocks on the door
from the old mailman
who is bringing little pieces
of you to me.
“The computer screen
never measures up to this anyway”,
you say to me,
past midnight,
so here goes all the words
unfold in my hands
filling up the space that distance
now makes a home out of.

I hear your voice rise and fall
through these postcards and letters you sent me
telling me that waking up
on the right side of bed would’ve been
perfect if I were beside you in it,
but you and I both know
that these miles grow wider day by day
and everytime I feel our continents
pull us farther apart
still,
you reach out for my hand
and entwine my hold in yours
even when there are so many lonely nights
that give me a reason
to simply let go out of your grasp.

though our clocks tick by differently,
though I wake up
in time with your sleep,
I will always listen to your certainty:
“darling, we are living under the same sun
and moon that gives way for each other.”

and believe

that with you, I found no other place but home.


****

Poem by Alve Jane Aranton. Alve is a 21 year-old writer from Cagayan de Oro, PH. She is a lover of words, coffee and cats. Alve blogs her feelings at  She Is The Paper Back Writer.

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