Waking up, walking to your door, waiting for you

I don't know why I suddenly feel homesick
or some sort of sick, like something is missing
and it's breaking my heart not to have it, only
 that I don't know what it is. Some things I am
 learning to admit to myself, for instance,
I am needy in quite a pathetic way. Maybe
 if I had your arms around me or even just
 a few of your words whispered to me, if I was
 running around getting the cake knowing that
you are in the room next door, your living
breathing presence, not two kilometers away
because it is simply cruel to be parted by ten hours
of the night and several more of the daylight hours.
 It hurt less when you were two thousand kilometers
 away, sometimes distance doesn't sink your heart
 the way nearness does. Ask anyone. But then how
 would anyone know? How can anyone feel the way
 I do about you, that in this moment suspended in time,
the world is blurring, other people are but specimens
too bland, too interesting, too old, too new and they
somehow couldn't arrive at the perfection at which
you somehow did and here I am
 waking up, walking to your door, waiting for you.