I want to know you. No. Not like that….I want to see what you see. No. Not what’s on the fields in front of you. No. I want to hear what you hear. No. Not the morning birds as the frost melts off the brown blades of winter grass. No. I want to smell what you smell. No. Not the fertile newly-tilled earth fresh from the tractor’s blades. No. Because those are the things you know now, now without me, when you are alone and in doubt and looking towards the starless sky. Under the same Sun without me. No.
I want, ‘O love, to love what you love. Yes. I want to hold your hand in church and sing the hymns we both knew as children. Yes. I want to laugh at the silly jokes we see on bad TV when curled up in your bed, with the blanket that smells like you after a long day, before, when you were without me. Yes. I want to grab the cap off your head and play with your hair and brush it from your eyes when I lean in to kiss you and open my eyes and find you still looking at me. Smiling. Yes. And I am smiling too. Yes.
I want to breathe what you breathe, inhaling the same air, the moment it escapes your tender lips and blows across my cheek. Yes. I want to catch your tears with my fingers and roll them off your face and hold your shaking head and quaking chest and tell you “Yes. I am really here. Yes. I am never letting you go. No. This is not a dream. No. I am not going to leave. No.”
To know you, to hold you close, to see what we see, to taste what we taste, to hear what we hear, to feel what we feel, to love what we love, together. To feel your smooth skin by mine, freshly showered and smelling of tomorrow, ending the best day, today. That is. Yes. That is yes. No. I will not simply call your name in the night and not hear you return my name. No.