[1/2] Homeless

I always hated how I found home in other people.

It's one of the things I hate most about myself,

Mistaking the warmth of another's arms for the embrace of a bed.

And the feeling go their love's security for a rood over my head.

-

I have lots of homes when I look at it this way,

They are all spread out in different cities and states.

An unhealthy mix of ex-lovers and lost friendships.

And unbalanced blend of quick beginnings and even quicker endings.

-

I find myself obsessed with this fantasy that we'll build our own home together,

Maybe then there I'd get to stop searching for open doors to walk into.

Maybe then there'd be no other doors I'd have to walk out through.

-

When you move this much, you being to romanticize the wall that never changes color.

-

I always hated how I found home in other people.

But the older I get and the more my house seems to fall,

I understand the need to rebuild on higher ground.

Somewhere stable and secure, where there is no risk if I fall.

-

I don't have many houses anymore.

Some of them miss, most of them I don't remember.

I lost the keys to all of them.

I found the strength to walk the long way home those days.

-

I don't have any fantasized of building my own home.

And I don't want to build any other homes today.

-

What is a living room without other livings to be living in it?

Or a soul without other souls to be soulful with?