I've got to see you tonite.

You are my only way to you
Honey,
The only way.
When you cut me out
I've got nowhere to go.
I know this sounds like prose already
But read deeply, it's a poem.

Miss you.
I miss you.
All day, I've been thinking, what to write
When I get back home
And couch on this chair
It must have been a composite of things

About you,
About how I need a haircut and my split ends
Or color them over the weekend, that you're not here
Or what people say about what I write
Rather, you don't know that I secretly write
And write about you.
You, all day.

How funny is that?

Also, you know another thing, preposterous.
Lazy ass
Dumb head.
How, thanks to you
and Me,

We haven't moved even a little bit from where we began
In whole entire years.
Days months weeks
Hours, seconds like these in which I type away

We haven't budged.
Gotten any closer or further.
Except exactly where we began

Or may be we are just elastic
No matter how far we stretch,
We come back,

Now, it feels stupid, somehow
Also the poem reads long and awkward.
So, just come home soon.
I've got to see you tonite.

PS: If you're still reading, this still is a poem.