tonight you made me sad.
It wasn't your fault.
It wasn't mine either.
It wasn't because you didn't come over.
It wasn't because of something stupid, something simple.
I just feel a little hollow.
A little bit like that home that I had found inside of you,
that warm place that I so loved to curl up in,
I feel a bit...as though I weren't allowed, weren't able
to feel it a safe place any longer.
It's as if you could suddenly choose to move it,
like it were on wheels or could just up and fly off into heavy clouds.
It just makes me wonder if I should just pretend like it was never here, close, holding me safe and soft,
wanting to wrap its walls around me.
I should just convince myself that
the projects are just the projects
even if it seemed like home growing up.
(The place you call home doesn't give a fuck about you.)
But I know (think?) you give a fuck.
I think you care. I don't think that you want to be temporary housing.
No. Wishful thinking and imposed ideals.
I wish you were a beautiful house of brick,
the kind that cools in the summer and holds heat in the winter.
The kind that likes where its at.
The kind that'll stick around for a while.