this house isn’t mine
it isn’t ours
but how lovely and cozy it is
i sit here alone in a room
i call it mine but it isn’t mine
what a fool am i
it repeats in my head
except when soft rains fall

the thrill of being sheltered in his arms

how can i miss something that isn’t mine
how can i hold it a bit longer
in my small hands
all the more space to slip through
slip away
and never come back

“how was work?”
i never know how to answer that simple question
its always alright
its always okay
days go by
i still don’t know the answer

my nails broken and body tired
what should i do
should i turn to you?
im on the edge of a cliff

i still dont know what to do