Behind Close(d)t Doors

I wish you were here -
here, in this moment, the quiet releasing exhale behind
closed doors, at the end of the day, at the end of facades,
The breathing out as guards are let down, as we slip
into pajamas and slide into bed beside one another,
you climbing in close to me, our chatting about
what happened to us "out there" and how we felt.
This moment, the stillness of a new place,
the silence that echoes inside the closet walls
we have to hold up until we close the bedroom door -
in this relief from tension, is when I need your ears and voice
and arms the most,
or maybe I just need someone next to me to hold me and
tell me I'm not alone, and that he understands, though I'd
rather we could seethe together, or laugh together
at the great game of pretend we're supposed to be playing.
It reminds me of a game we played, or didn't have to play, 
before, as you let me into your childhood bed, 
and we closed the door behind us
while I asked a million questions about what
your family thought of me. There is a certain strength
between the minds and hearts of lovers, behind closed doors.
I love the pieces of relationships that remain publicly unseen -
The glue that holds two souls together, in the knowing one another.

Now, no one knows me here,
and as nice as it is to visit my family homes,
the only family and the only home I want is in the
company of an understanding heart and pair of arms.

The only ears here are these pages,
and the arms I draw here with my words aren't long enough
to hold me tighter than this blanket can hold me,
especially when my arms, try as they might,
are still so bent on stretching out toward you.