Within my arms and in the comfort of my bed,
She runs her hands through my hair,
Her cigarette scented fingers
Massage away the aches of a working day,
My cheeks tortured by hours of endless laughter,
And the eternal smile she puts on my face,
In this moment I’m ******,
She’s got me and she knows it,
I once saw myself as a broken toy,
Left to rot at the bottom of a chest,
Forgotten by time and those who’ve left me behind,
But now feeling like someone’s first choice,
In my head I’m introduced to a new voice,
It whispers in a soft, mumbled sound,
“Please, stick around.”