a white picket fence and blue shutters
describes the house i see in my mind.
a quaint and childish fantasy,
with love blind and hands intertwined.
i left my shoes by the door
and i left that door unlocked.
you locked the door behind you
and didn't care enough to have knocked.
i built that house to have you in it,
and i wanted your shoes by the door.
but you don't bother with much of anything
and i can hear your steps against the floor.
then things get a little lonely
and you're the only one sleeping in the bed.
and i'm sitting on the hardwood because, well, actually, i forgot to imagine anything else in this godforsaken house except for that bed because i was too busy thinking of you.
anyways.
things got a little lonely and they hurt a little more.
then i made an effort to run from you,
but my shoes were still by the door.
the pavement probably would've felt worse than the pain i endure from trying to love you. at least, it feels better to think of it that way.
