Homesick

I never really had

a home.

A space to be safe,

or to call my own.

I flitter and fleet

from place to place,

never still

for long enough

to settle and stay.

So I have never

felt the anxious unease,

nor the gnawing nostalgia

of being homesick.

But perhaps

a home

isn't always

a place.

Maybe my home

is in you.

Because

the longing

for your arms

around me,

your skin

against my fingertips,

your intoxicating scent,

and the taste

of your lips...

It sure feels like

I'm homesick.

So take me home.