Thus Far... (Poetry Collection)

Home

You are home.
I am in a car, driving 80 mph down a deserted road
5000 miles away from you, and I cannot turn around
You are my fucking home
I swore to myself I hated you
Our tattered walls and crinkled rose wallpaper
Our forgotten floors and ceilings, crumbling under the weight of the end
The end of what? Us?

Though I somehow was unable to remember the memories of you
The way your hands felt and your unstable skin from the hatred you had of yourself
The way you looked at me as I undressed.
Sometimes I look at you and see the way you used to look at me and I melt.
I got high the other day
Wrote you a letter and burned it with the same match I used to light my bowl
And I floated to the ceiling
And tried to forget.
I can never forget.
No matter how far I go.
No matter how many drunken and high letters I write to you.
You are home.

You crumbled under my weight and I'm sorry
But there is beauty in the way we fall
There is love in the way we speak
And though you work hard to be unreadable, I know every emotion under your floorboards.

See, the farther I go
The closer my heart gets to you
And the more I wish I could run back
And just say sorry

You are my fucking home
And I am trying to find my way back
But I'm high and I'm confused and your doors are locked tight
Please let me in