Home, a poem

Driving down that long and lonely road is a road that I’ve come to know intimately; a road that I call home.

Or, I suppose I called it “somewhere” or someplace.
But now that you’re here it is home. I’m not alone.

It has windows, a few paintings, behind or around them are walls.
The library has stalled its collection, but it’s the biggest I’ve ever seen in a home. I’m very proud of it as you know.

Our home could be anywhere.
And at such young ages, it likely will. Currently, the faucet pressure isn’t helpful, with the stove top often too helpful – lucky we both like our food crunchy. The heater comes and goes as it pleases, often bellowing early morning when I rise for work.

When I rise I don’t want to leave. Your face sunken into the pillow, driving away through the night, is all I have to remind me of my purposeful life.

There are many exits on the road, yet I keep driving.

I remember the day we first met and how my heart forced me to speak with someone I had no business speaking to. You were devastatingly beautiful then. Beside me every morning, you grow in beauty.
Somehow, I have continued to survive this.

Along our journey, my Teddybear has gained two new friends. One a bigger bear and the other a little pig. Thanks to you.

The radio doesn’t capture my imagination anymore. I’d rather hear people talk. Thanks to you.

The most certain I’ve ever been was the time I concluded that our ongoing story, this road called life – my life with you, has become my favorite Melody. It gets stuck in my head everytime I drive, left alone with my thoughts, with you still asleep at home while the sun comes out.

If there ever was a less cheesey way to describe my days as of late, I wouldn’t dare use it. Somehow, I thrive with this in mind.

So, when I get home after a long day of working, wishing to do some lazy living, it strikes rather erratically once I realize that I forgot that you weren’t home.

The door is sturdy, but its personality crooked as I enter the key. I enter the apartment and I am alone.
But I am home, so I am with you.
I close the door behind me.

Scanning the wall surrounding the bathroom, my eyes find a mustache written on a piece of paper with tape graciously helping it stay still.

The road we know is rather intimate. This road is now yours as I sink my head into the pillows of our bed. I hope you find a nice melody to bob your head to.

Home is waiting for you to take your exit soon. To take your shoes off and relax. You are not alone. I miss you. Look what 3 days does to your beau.

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