The door,
the same old door
open and unlocked,
you sit on the couch,
the one you slept on for
six years.
In the flames tonight,
the smell of burning will be back
but this time,
it is welcome.
The cabinets,
the dishes,
they are all broken
and I am standing on shards of porcelain
piercing my feet,
in fear of more pain,
we stay where we are
you, on the couch
and me, on the plates.
welcome home.