"Would you love me, if I was anything less, than what I am?"
I wondered while I quietly Admitted to myself That I do in fact love you. I love how we fight I love how me make love. I love your hands on me And your casual caress.
I may have not been In touch with that fact For a long time And for all these years But it would seems That indeed there's no place like home.
And it would seem indeed That home was always with you. I saw the pain in your eyes And I knew you were talking about me When you said:
"You don't know what it's like, when the girl you love, doesn't want you but continues to exist and you just wish you could see her"*
No I don't. I walk out on people in a second So they wouldn't walk out on me. Kind of how you walked out on me And made me wait Just sit on my hands and wait. Always knowing You took that for granted Fully aware and bitter in the idea That you could never fix that. But maybe you're fixing it now. 6 years later.