For a month I had a home, our home away from home
neither mine nor his but we had our place
our little niche
our own space.
As the month drew near darker days came more frequent
I'd prefer to stay in bed, I'd let you tuck me in
but not even *** could make me forget
that the inevitable was quickly approaching.
Now that I'm here?
with no prospect of a home in sight
a place to call my own without
throwing myself to the dogs in the process.
The woman and her fangs sink deeper and deeper
the harder I try to run.
As each day passes I grow wearier
as to whether or not I'll even make it.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
For a month I had a home, our home away from home
neither mine nor his but we had our place
our little niche
our own space.
As the month drew near darker days came more frequent
I'd prefer to stay in bed, I'd let you tuck me in
but not even *** could make me forget
that the inevitable was quickly approaching.
Now that I'm here?
with no prospect of a home in sight
a place to call my own without
throwing myself to the dogs in the process.
The woman and her fangs sink deeper and deeper
the harder I try to run.
As each day passes I grow wearier
as to whether or not I'll even make it.
Request permission to use this poem