Home

I get sick at the thought of you and her together. It makes me shake and sweat like I have the flu and I can't get better.

I don't want to imagine her wrapped in your arms, head on your chest because I get so jealous I become a mess.

I hate when you talk about her like you forget that I have feelings for you, and you could care less about them.

I've sat in my bathroom floor holding in heavy tears while we're on the phone, telling you that I'm alright when really I feel like being next to you because you feel like home.

You don't feel the same and that's OK, I like the pain. I'm a masochist so that makes it OK. It's my fault not yours so don't be sad.

I hate all of this 'I lowkey this' 'I lowkey that' when the world just needs to be honest and clear with one another. I highkey wish you'd be mine, but I can't say that to you for the millionth time.

When I look in your eyes I feel warm and fuzzy. You make me laugh so hard and smile so big I feel like my face and lungs will crack.

I feel at home with you and no one else has ever made me feel like that and it's ironic because I can't make you feel the same way.

I want to be your home. I want to be the thing that makes you happier at the end of the day. I want to be the person you can't live without. can't stop talking about. Can't help but think about. But I'm not.

You say I'm the only person that seems to be able to make you happy lately, but you're still with her. You talk about her so much and you say all of these things. when it comes down to it no matter what you tell me I'll always feel second place.

You are my home.

But the sad part is is that I'm a ghost in my own threshold as I watch someone else live the life I wish I had.

With you.