if home is where the heart is
then my home is that run-down movie theater
where we met up again-
the first time in almost a year that I saw your serpentine grin
and heard your heavy laugh;
the first time in almost a year that I felt your more-than-affable embrace.
the first time I ever felt your fragile lips.
I remember how you looked at me,
searched my eyes for a hint of emotion.
I remember how my face turned red,
PDA has never been my kind of thing.
I don’t like to be the center of anyone’s attention
and public places make me sick.
You could say my head’s a little broken
but that’s just the norm for me.
if home is where the heart is
I must be paying emotional rent
because some days, when I’m hungry for misery
I drive past that run-down movie theater
and drown in my memories