Everyone has some one
to come home to.
The house is warm
and full of the sounds
of life when they
walk through the door.
Some one to kiss
and ask how was your day.
Some one to listen
whether it was good or bad.
Some one to discuss
dinner plans and then eat with,
snuggle up on the couch
and watch tv.
Maybe they have a cute baby
that gives purpose to
working 40+ hours a week,
a family to support,
and be supported by.

Tonight I drove home
in freezing rain,
and unlocked the door
to a quiet, cold house.
I forgot to grab salt for
the water softener again
because I don’t have
anyone to remind me.
Even the cat who lives here
doesn’t care about my
existence.
I sat in silence
on my bed for almost
an hour,
paralyzed in thought,
not knowing what to do
because nothing sounds good.
I turned on the ps5
and played Skyrim
for a total of 5 minutes
before turning it back off.
And I gave up on
listening to a podcast
soon after.
I thought about calling
a friend but there’s no one
to call.
I’m dying here I think.
Painfully slow,
but dying all the same.

I wonder if loneliness
could actually **** a person.

Tik tok told me he viewed my
profile the other day.
There is nothing there except two
things I’ve reposted.
But I can’t stop wondering
why he looked at all.
I broke & viewed his profile
just now.
He’s going to see that I did.
I wish he wouldn’t.
I don’t know why I looked,
there’s nothing there either.
I guess I was just hoping
to get even a morsel of
information as to what is going
on in his life.
I can’t ask him and he’s not
saying.
We are just two strangers again,
no clue as to who the other is anymore.

I want to cry
an actual river.
One that creates an
eco system
and attracts wild life
and nature lovers.
Make it just quick
and deep enough that
people can paddle down it
without too much strain.
They could call
it weeping willow river
and tell the fable
of the girl it’s based on.

One day,
a very sad woman
came here and
she sat so long and
cried so much
that she created a river
of tears.
No one really knows
what caused that kind
of pain,
and I don’t think
she did either.

It’s dark when I wake up,
the sun is just starting
to peak over the trees.
It’s time to get back
on the stairs,
and make food at home.
Cozy up to the man
that keeps me warm
and catch up on
all the tv and movies
I’ve missed.
I will close off half
of my house
and relearn the fastest way
to build a fire.
A new season is
just beginning,
and I can only hope
the holidays actually
bring happiness this year.

I wonder if his
clothes will ever
be mixed in with mine.
In a basket fresh from
the dryer,
slowly gone through
and folded.
I can imagine
putting them away in
the dresser in his room,
and then hanging mine
in the closet.

I would take one of
his shirts out of the drawer
and put it on.
Go downstairs to
see him smile and
then kiss me while
he makes dinner.
In the house we live
in together.

I don’t know much.
Maybe nothing at all.
But I know I love him.
He is this warm, October light
that makes me feel good
and without him things just don’t
seem to go right.
I don’t know what’s going to happen
to me in a week, let alone a year;
but I hope he’s there
because that means things will be okay.

I like when we’re
cuddled up like puppies,
arms and legs draped
over the other.
I like when he reaches
for my hand and
guides me around
so I’m not on the outside
of the sidewalk
but continues holding it
while he smokes
with the other.
I watched him quietly fill up
two pages with different
drawings and I wondered
what inspired each one.
His Art is usually dark
and distorted,
or goofy like
The bean man.
A wild bean with arms and legs
that wears a bandana,
smokes cigarettes
and causes chaos.
I like petting his hair,
something he had to get used to
because “no other girl had
ever done that before.”
But he’s so cute,
and scruffy like a dog
that I can’t help myself.
I’m still learning how he
operates,
which is mostly in silence
but I’m starting
to understand that
the quiet can be comfortable too.

It’s hard to be a human.
To make the right choice,
or do the right thing.
It’s even harder when you love someone.
It’s hard to be happy with simplicity.
At least for me.
It’s hard when your dreams feel
so big and impossible.
Like that bright star you see when you’re driving at night. The one that stands out from the others.
It’s too far away, so you can’t grab it.
Instead you think about how beautiful it would be if it could be yours.
Some day that star will burn out,
turn into dust or maybe nothing at all
just like me.. but I still want it.

I’m not sure if he
knows this,
and maybe I should
tell him
just in case,
but I am not going
anywhere.
He is the kind of man
women write about
in the bedroom.

I’m trying to remind
myself that he only
sparkles because I shine.
I look at him through
rose colored glasses,
and think all of his flaws
are cute.
But I am the firefly
that makes him glow,
and the sun that
peaks through after
a storm.
I was all of these things
before him,
now
and
always.

I feel everything
intensely
so right now
my heart aches
but I have butterflies.
I can’t stop
thinking about his
big blue eyes and the way his
body feels against mine.
He even smells like safety.
We just spent the night
all over each other
but I’m seeing him again later.
We’ve only grown closer
and stronger over the
last year,
and definitely so in love.

I peeked around the corner
to see if the bartender
was there and we made
eye contact so I
blurted out,
I’ll have another.

I probably shouldn’t
have another
because it’s 6:30 pm
on a Tuesday
that went completely
wrong.

Now I have to decide
if being completely
alone
is better than
being “in love”
with someone who
doesn’t see me
in their future.

I keep thinking that
maybe I can change
my mindset.
Be okay with a weekend
boyfriend,
just a guy that I care
about but not that much.
But I keep proving
to myself that
I can’t change.

I want someone
who wants me there.

I have a man who
has never raised his voice
or insulted me once.
We don’t argue,
we disagree
and we always
both apologize.
He called me a goddess
once when I sent him
a naked photo,
and I didn’t feel
**** before.
He is gentle with
animals and kids
and me.
Our date nights
consist of lots of ****,
the Chinese buffet
and ***.
I am an early bird
and he is a night owl.
I am the storm, and
he is the rainbow
afterward.

I don’t know what
I’m doing
and neither does he
but I sure hope he wants
to keep doing it
with me.

I left the door unlocked
as if he might walk
through it,
tell me he’s sorry
and that this whole
fight was stupid.
Kiss me,
hug me,
tell me he loves me.

But he’s never been to my house.
That’s part of why I am here
and he isn’t.