Home

You're here with me in this moment,

But I see nothing in your eyes, 'cept distance.

I shut them out, retreat to darkness,

And nothing changes, we don't want it.

Here we are,

A place called hell.

Two in bed,

But both alone.

Here I am,

My prison cell.

I know it well,

A place called home.

Your hands say more than your expressions,

I hear nothing in your voice, 'cept distance.

I'm all second glances, and you're all silence,

And nothing changes, I don't want it.

Just started this, not at all finished, obviously...

I’m lying on the floor, running my fingers across the bare skin of my abdomen. The stretch marks are deep and dark, illuminated by the pale sunlight of dusk covered by clouds. My gaze floats to the ceiling and then falls to the other side of the room. Elvis is in the corner playing with a small race car that he found in the sandbox at the park down the street.

Just when I thought I'd given up on fire altogether,

I felt a spark on my lips,

I swallowed, and now I feel it in my stomach,

I feel it running to my fingertips.

You're never here to hold me

I guess I'll hold myself until you can