What is it when all the love you could possibly feel is gone?
****** right out one night.
I go to bed full of love & wake up empty.. distant.. broke..
You don't know what happened, you can't come even close to fixing it.
No matter who comes along I'll be there; a hollow shell.
Holding a mask of glee, yippee...
But there you are waiting.. watching...
Tell me, do you see the real me?

My grandmother used to tell me to think of love as a home.
So I did.
home felt comfortable.
Home seemed a little broken from the past owners. I thought of it as a fixer upper.
Home was beautiful.
Home made me happy, except when he did that thing I didn’t like, a thousand times.
Looking back that thing, was just silly.
I think that thing was just my excuse for not loving all the other things home put me through.
I tried to brush it off because no matter what this would be the first home I knew.
For the longest time I tried to fix home.
However, when I fixed one thing; another seemed broken.
The tile floors started to crack, the very thing I loved the most.
Then the beautiful walls started to crumble right in front of me.
My first home started getting harder and harder to fix, and just like that it became harder and harder to love.
Looking back, home was just a house.