Universe

When I left the tiny town, the one that strangled us for so long, did I also leave the universe in which you existed, exist? Because I am back in the solar system, but somehow we are standing on unreachable planets, rotating around separate stars, changing with different seasons. Your earth is warm, your sun in burning bright. My earth is cold, my star is bubbling blue. Is this why when you reach through the phone, trying to touch me, to graze my freezing cheek, your touch feels icy? I took the Milky Way home, the same path I walked when I left. And for the entire journey, I gazed at the stars that reflect the same light your eyes do, did. When my heart cried from the loneliness of open space and emptiness, I found comfort in knowing that the smiling moon beside me was the same one you watched from your window. Perhaps I took a left at Polaris when I was meant to go right, right through a wormhole that dropped me off in an alternate universe. That would explain why I feel a million miles away from what's mine, why I'm shouting your name and hearing nothing but the echo in return. I've never been good at navigation, and I get lost as often as you find me. Maybe it's just a miscommunication. So, pick up the phone, tell me how to get home, or make the trek yourself. Before this frozen place becomes home, and your touch becomes hot enough to melt me.