i want a home with you.
a modest one,
i'm not asking for much.
even if it only has enough room for a twin bed,
that will at least allow me to be closer to you in the night.
because for now i am alone in my own,
dreaming of a bathroom counter with your toothbrush next to mine,
and a fridge compiled with odd combinations of our contradicting diets.
i can see it now:
nights cuddled on the sofa watching movies until 2am,
grocery shopping for the meals we will eat together,
the comforting silence of sitting across the room from you,
your voice being the last thing i hear before i drift to sleep.
i have all of this now,
but only fleeting and semi-permanent,
washed away once the weekend inevitably ends.
i want the security of opening the door everyday,
no matter how early or late,
and always being greeted by you.
even if not by your presence,
but by seeing you in the clothes you have left in the hamper,
the half-full drink you forgot on the table,
or the smell of you that lingers on the bed sheets.
i want to look around the room and see you in everything there is to be seen.
that is when i'll know i have found home.
