We sat in the backseat of your car, blankets immersing us in fake sanctuary; I'm home because you're there. I don't really take pleasure in scary movies, they interest me, but they depress me. We ignore the movie, we tried playing cards. I touched you beneath your undergarments; Warmth; I was home; In the back of your car; At the drive-in theater; On screen two.
What do you do when home leaves you? Put up signs with his face on it? “Money reward for return of home” You can have a weakness for the fossils- The poem, the horse you endearingly knitted for weeks, the dream catcher that whimsically suspends from my wall with my uneven décor, red walls with your writing- will these fossils haunt me or comfort me?
I want to lay my head on homes boney chest. I love you.
1 comment:
i apologize for the straight up lurking but this is great, you're a such a talented writer it's quite inspiring.
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