Comfort is dumb because it makes us babies when we’re faced with minuscule adversity. But comfort is great because it’s…well, comfortable.
The first time I saw you, I felt so at home.
The first time I kissed you, I felt like I was home.
The first time I fucked you, I knew I was home.
And I felt like I was home to you.
Why did you move out?
You were always home to me.
Why did you evict me?
Every time I think about you, I wish I was home again.
Every time I hear your name, or remember something you said, I wonder why I’m not at home.
Anytime I see your face, I get homesick.
Such is life for a homeless romantic like myself.
“Please don’t take me home, ‘cause I haven’t got one anymore.”