94. An essay on my daydreaming

everytime I see you

in a photograph

I give it motion and 

a soundtrack

or when I get news from you

in a text or in a post

I imagine you at that precise moment

visualizing your surroundings

until I can feel

the smoothness of the skin

that covers your neck

just below your ear lobe 

in the tip of my lips

and sense your smell

like jasmine blooms 

pouring softly from

orange skies

we put on our costume

and act out scenes

mashing up 

our favorite

movies

series

dramas

and memories

ordered randomly perfect

where all the possible endings

have us together

with you lying on my chest

while I hold you tightly

and telling you

I will never let you go

and though

those flashes 

have spaced out 

through time

they have evolved

in detail and substance

everything in between

is a total blackout

until I see your light again

shinning in

through that small gap

between the floor and the door

as I turn the knob

my carpet already 

welcomed you back home

I waste no time

in taking your purse and 

your coat

I look into your eyes

and everything 

feels the same 

as the first day

even if twenty years 

could have passed