I yearn to be with you... home
yet it is the most petrifying place to be...
with you
I hold my breath as I tiptoe down these
old mahogany steps
hoping my head can make it to my pillow
so I can survive another night-
only then will I have
some sort of peace.
there are few nights I go to sleep famished,
afraid of what will happen if I were
to speak my mind to you
I cannot fill that space
every ill-mannered thought you possess
has already taken a seat at the table
consuming the you that I once knew
and I am again left unfed...
expected to stay another night