you’re my broken home.
there are holes in the walls shaped
like your fathers fists,
cracks in the kitchen counter
where my nails dragged
when my mother spoke
the way she did about you,
and leaks in the roof every time i remember
what my God says about loving you.

i know in my life i will find boys
that give me white picket fences,
and my fathers blessing

but its a sinful kind of love
that keeps pulling me back in
through your broken windows

baby i’m so sorry for the bloodstains
left on your floor
every time i come back to you.
i’ll always come back to you.