I woke up in a strange bed this morning. I woke up in a bed that belongs to someone else, a bed with a pillowcase that doesn't match the duvet and a bed that doesn't feel like home. I woke up in a strange bed, but the bed doesn't belong to a stranger. The bed belongs to a past lover. Her hair colour doesn't match her eyebrows, it's blue and her eyebrows are brown, but she feels like home. She holds my hand and it's like I'm holding onto an angel. She drives us around in her old beat up car and it feels like I'm finally free. She brushes her lips against mine and it feels natural, it feels good. Maybe, just maybe, this is what I deserve. It won't be long until her bed feels like home. It won't be long until you're gone.