he leaves me for what he already knows.
he stops holding my hand
and he opens the door to a house that he thought had burned down in flames
and it's painful to be the one who waits
but i wait
because maybe it won't feel like home.
because maybe the walls will be a different color and because maybe it's not welcoming anymore.
maybe the love isn't there anymore.
and so i wait.
i wait outside beneath a tree with broken limbs and i feel sad because all things must come to an end and this is the end.
i stand on the outside and he is dancing in the kitchen with her.
she is spinning beneath that old light fixture that needs fixing but they're too engulfed in their happiness to notice the broken things
and so they don't notice me.
they don't notice me and i understand.
familiarity in love feels easier
and i'm not angry and i'm a little bit sad but i understand.
he's loved her for quite some time now,
he hasn't ever stopped
