I Was Your Home

Twenty20 / @chloeboulos

You’re probably with a guy right this second
who doesn’t even know
that you prefer tea
over coffee
or that you have trouble falling asleep
without at least one person saying goodnight to you.

And as you’re waiting for him to ask you
how your day went
or how you got the scar on your left shoulder,
all you’re going to hear is an echoing silence
because he’s too busy wondering why his ex-girlfriend
hasn’t drunk called him
in two and a half months.

And as you’re trying to fill the air
with meaningless words
to break the silence,
I hope you remember those times
I cut you off mid-sentence
because I couldn’t stop myself
from kissing you.

And when he refuses to get out of bed
to walk you to the front door,
I hope you remember
that time I got a splinter
from walking you to your car

And I hope the car
that pulls up next to you
at a red light
plays our song so loud
that you can still hear the chorus
even with your windows rolled all the way up.

And when you’re trying to find
your way back to your place,
I hope your GPS
leads you to my driveway
because I was your fucking home. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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