i was your house, your home
i sheltered you from the storms and cold;

after each rough day, each fight against the world,
through the broken mirrors and stepped-on cigarettes;
scattered picture frames and dusty shelves,

at the end of the day, you came to me
and put on some music
sitting in your favorite chair

i was your home;
you needed me,
and what was a house without someone to shelter?

but you were too busy

chasing the stars
with your head in the highest clouds

arms outstretched
for a dream
miles from me and
the rest of the world

to notice
how i was crumbling

this is trash af but i just feel like writing