Where art thou?

I haven't found the right words to say to anyone who asks why you look so pale.

Honey man, the world is starting to notice you are not here again. 

Yet the bed still smells of you.

I am waiting for you to come home with all of you.

The you that listens and caresses my waist.

This abode really longs for you.

The calm, outspoken, caring you.

The you I know no longer returns home. 

You now shut the door to the room after taking your shoes in with you.

I am longing for the fresh smell from your cologne.

Does my screaming really bruise your masculinity?

Oh, I lament yet like the woman in Proverbs 7:19; for my husband is not at home, he has gone on a long journey.

Le boo, the house doesn't feel like home again. 

Stop leaving while you are in, oh stop it.

You are here, but very lost, come back.

Forget my yelling.

Stop staying in the car for so long.

You peck my forehead without desires to hold me near.

How can you be gone, but be staying? 

Everything we share is fading.

Stop stammering when you say my name.

Husband man, Have i worn you out?

This vow was for better and worse, my pettiness and flaws.

Oh, oh, oh honey man, I demand you come home right now.

Return, return, I demand.