it's funny how home can be
                                                an obligation
                                                a relief
                                                the place where your bed is where the food is where your mom is
                                                a hug a kiss a look in his eye
                                                wherever the night leads you
                                                ran away from
                                                bolted towards
                                                not a house
                                                stifling
  ­                                              missed
            ­                                    comforting
                  ­                              it's funny how it is what you make it and how i keep happening upon that truth

/******* futon sleep woke up to the sky looking like somebody owes it money and my cat ****** me for attention and an empty house.

an echo in my lungs that would wake a dead man from his sleep

i miss your bones and your breath.the way our curves collide, two winding roads meeting meshing melting together
when i wake up without you by my side i am a little kid lost in the grocery store calling for
mom running running running down endless aisles
i want to pull your voice from the phone and wear it as a sweater to keep in the
warm
and keep out the reality that
appears to be nearing implosion,patiently scratching tally marks until it reaches the number that everyone can feel if they
listen.
i have been told it's a sign of lacking wisdom to speak in absolutes
but love,
i absolutely irrefutably love every piece of you, always, forever , eternal, on and on and that will never
not be the case.
after a crash course in independence and several flirtations with lonely nights

i know i don't want the world; i just want your half

my dog ran away this morning
i underestimated his loyalty as i bolted through the neighborhood
with hot, wild tears
and he was waiting for me casually on the porch when i returned

it scares me when the world feels
small
and not unfathomably large. everything is moving so fast but it seems directionless, like a spinning top trapped in a corner

i want to breathe in the trees and stand still
and feel that the universe is indeed benevolent
and that the end of days is really
just
a beginning.