Contra

Must I justify why I ran back to you
if it felt as natural as breathing?
As ducking from a ball headed for the face,
fleeing the train tracks at the sight of smoke,
waking up in the morning?
I let my lungs expand and take you back,
all the way back to me, little by little,
fragment by fragment.
First a strand of hair,
then a hand smaller than mine,
then the lilt of your voice.
Jigsaw lover, you are finally home.
This is not a drill, a dream, a taunting hope.
It is us.
And how I missed you–missed your blond hair
and dark eyes and your odd little laugh,
missed how you walk with eyes cast down,
your fiery spirit, your extroverted sparkle,
your obsession over me like
I was your drug
and your addiction
and your cure.
Must I justify it?
Or can I relearn you?
Learn again–how the pieces click into place,
the strategies of solving your puzzled eyes,
remember how we were built for each other?
Let me try.

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