One moment
I was in your life
- in every single
nook
and cranny,
trying to
smooth out
your broken edges
the same way
you smoothed out
mine.
But that was only
for a moment,
and the next
I was gone.

You cleared me out,
got a paint job and
fresh wallpaper,
stripping me of
mine
and leaving me
naked and
alone and
bare.

Don't you care?
Don't you care that
I had made a happy
home
in your heart
even though I'd
only just moved in
and the previous
resident had
left their mark?

I don't know what to
say other than
god ******,
I've got space for you,
the keys in the lock and
you don't even need to knock
because
I'll be waiting.

So please,
please make room for me
because I've never felt
so beautiful as when
you took the word and
translated it into
a hundred thousand
gestures and
expressions
and precious memories.

My wallpaper's
torn right through
but I can stick it back
together
if only you give me the
permission.

You don't have to
keep on living in
broken homes.

So just let me
try and fix the
one we made.

When was it
that I stopped
making you feel
a little less
lonely?

It's hard to stop
loving
the things that
hurt you,
especially when
they're hurting
too.