could be

perhaps you don't belong
but you are needed and desired
in the hearth, in the house
barefoot and warmed by captured fire
there are arms for you here
and fresh baked bread

this is a place to wait out winter
where the floor grows thick carpet
the windows thicken on their own
northern drafts howl but do not touch
the sink is always empty of dishes
the trash never overflows
soft lamp light and hot cocoa in unchipped mugs

mulled apple cider whiskey on the stove
the world smells of cinnamon and cloves
hot baths in a tub suddenly big enough for two
history channel then cartoons at night
the sun finds us in every corner
where we curl up like cats, circular and unaware

in the center of my belly, slightly higher than my navel
in the root of me, i try to ignore, i try to reason
you don't belong here, you don't crave
my head and my heart argue behind closed doors, undecided
but in the depth and breadth
I feel it, like butterflies, like mother, like destined lover
eventually you will come home
exhausted from sewing seeds and fighting wars

lights are left on and finest linens are laid
your hands touch me from the future, from simple pathetic fantasy, perhaps
the settling, the exhale, the entwining of limbs
i tell myself if not you then perhaps another just like
there are spaces to fill and journeys to end
but only when we are whole and can be two, not one

another just like perhaps
but the original seems most likely
cells of me ache to their core
with the knowing, the conclusions drawn
in the dna, the zodiac weaving
before we were even born

maybe it is not intuition that speaks, that fills my core
but hunger, primitive and not spiritual
maybe i own no chakras or auras and maybe the stars are dead
it could just be misfired synapses and psychiatric diagnoses

or it could be love

it could be love

this i bury in my backyard with bones and tin boxes of buttons
this i tuck away in the back of closets with old board games
with the outgrown shoes, with the fairies and forgotten oil paints
this i pull down when i unsure, this i embrace when scared

perhaps from delusion, perhaps from fate

it could be love
it could be love