Touches in secret, tracing sweet lies on my skin and holding my hand. Hiding behind the walls and empty rooms and giggles so quite and tears slowly run dry and you're just there silently watching me rip myself open for the glitters and gloom alike.
For you're always there for the black hole you've made me into, for I believe maybe I was once a star and you killed the nova before I knew and I've became the vacuum that only consumes you.
You've been taking my hand and dragging me to the dark and in hushed happiness telling me stories of your life, but I don't want to listen for I know my glitter lies in the light, yet you say it's better with you and me alone.
You're the contradiction that controls my confusion, misty minds and hurricane hearts you've left me in isolation to think about the paintings behind my eyes, every brushstroke needling it's way into my lungs and I can't breathe to think about art that remains from the past.
Each stroke is louder on my eyes and darling you're blinding me with the ink that churns with sea that I've found home in. You're the only remaining familiarity that I'm left with and your effects are photographs while others remain as paintings.
Dear loneliness, I know I can't loose you so I've found comfort for you are the only thing that remained past home.
And in the arms of homesickness, I've found home again.
