I can’t light fires,
in this God forsaken house
without you.
It’s cold -
but mainly because
you're two thousand miles away
and I know you haven’t even done so much
as breathe my name.
I’ve breathed, screamed, sighed yours
more than I’ve inhaled the autumn air.

I can’t find the matches,
it’s cold,
stop saying her name,
please,
come home.
And I know you don’t know
where exactly home is,
but it’s here,
with me,
with a heart that beats out the vibrations of your name.
If you’ll find joy elsewhere,
then go,
go far away from here.

But you won’t,
so come home.