Home

You’re still traipsing up the stairs,

Still giggling in my kitchen,
Your lips still linger in the doorway,
As your blush continues
To color my heart.

They’d have never called us loves
But they’d probably call us fools

To leave a hopeless home behind

In hopes of building one anew,

I doubt I could have lived
With your last burning impression
A stolid, stifled glance,
I could not endure a world
After your short-lived adoration,

How is it that your love could
Make me feel more
Like me?

How is it that your love could
Make me feel more
Than me?

Fate be fickle.

Fate ain’t kind.

Fate doth tickle

Down your spine.

"Home is underrated,"
I’d say before I knew,

Before I knew the feeling


Of being home

With you.