You always return. You have trained me to wait for you like a dog by the front door. Chewing your shoes and your coffee table when you’re gone for too long.
You’ve starved me before, for months; and I wagged my tail so gleefully when you walked in as if you’d just popped to the store. I was just skin and bones.
Yet again, locked in, so thirsty.. I’m listening for the creaks outside and staring at the walls. But I have so much faith in your return.