I've made this drive 500 times
Often distracted by the finished work day
Or the overcast that's headed towards Beverly Road. 
I'm trying to make it over the tracks again before the next cargo shipment passes through. 
Two things are absolute 
You will be there eagerly awaiting to plant a *****-drenched peck on my lips
And I will down a bottle of wine within the next two hours. 
It never was about the yellow house
Or the crying puppy in the back yard
or the way the wood floors creaked when you woke up early and snuck out for your first cigarette. 
Hurricane season came and went, still Beverly Road remained untainted 
But the passion that pumped through me got carried away in all that rain and yellow was no longer my favorite color. 
After all, you can't make a house a home alone. 
If I had realized how badly the wind had beaten you down, maybe I'd still be sitting in the garage attempting to disguise our discontent
I went back Once
I was trying to sow myself together when I realized for the first time sorry isn't always enough
And there are words I can't cram back into my mouth. 
I admit I can turn into a tropical storm.
I picture you peacefully falling asleep to my thunder
I forget how badly I wanted to set the bedposts on fire with lightning strikes.