Most days I just want to come home to,
Find you in my bed,
And just fold myself around you,
And leave the blankets on the floor.
Each other is enough to keep us warm.

But what I want is rarely what I receive.
And so it's another bowl,
Then off to scramble for my keys,
And hope for the worst.

Sometimes I'll find myself looking for an escape,
Then realize there is only one.
And that is the path of the selfish and the weak,
And I am neither.

Far from brave,
But farther from cowardly.
I could daze for days,
And let misery shower me.

But once again,
I'm alone, radiating hate,
For this distance that,
Seems to obstruct our fate.

Once the passion in my eyes burns out,
Once you've realized I'm unworthy...
It's another bridge incinerated,
But let's be honest, I was never that sturdy.