every

i'm not good at goodbyes when it comes to you.

all i can leave you with is a simple see you soon.

soon as in not in the next three months. 

soon as in not in the foreseeable future.

soon as in maybe next year?

will i ever be ready to face you
without wanting to have you back in that way?

how can a heart like mine,

which has been dragged through mud, 

slammed on walls, walked all over, 

and thrown out to a far sea,

how can a heart like mine still be big enough to hold you?

even after everything?
how can a heart like mine still have so much faith?
faith in the person you will become?

how can that be when

every good thing we've ever had, 

can be punctuated by a bad thing?

isn't that telling?

that our good cannot do without the bad?

people will tell you that you'll have to have bad days.

because these days will tell you 

what good days are supposed to be like. 

i'd like to believe otherwise.

i shouldn't make a home out of arms
that fail to hold me tight
when fear and panic set in at night.
i shouldn't make a home out of lips
that taste so good on mine,
but say one thing and mean another.
i shouldn't make a home out of eyes
that fail to see the beauty that surrounds them.
i shouldn't make a home out of hands,
that threaten to let go at any moment.
i shouldn't make a home out of a heart
that cannot bear to embrace who i am.

i shouldn't,
but i want to.