You never liked over- head lights and I've always waited too long for you to come home.

While I sit by the door with my hands in the key bowl
I patiently wait for it to open
And then close.

I'll sit and I'll watch like the dog that I am.

I'll climb through the window and take your duvet
And burn all the candles before you find me

In your bed
With my lips tight and suffering from
A disease that makes it hard to
Whisper words that
You said to me when we
Were.

And I'll wish for a smooth metal
To pry my timid mouth open
To maybe those words will one day sink somewhere among the coins and
the
keys

So I'll question the air that
I'm
breathing
and I'll question the air that
you're
breathing
because your breath is a breakthrough and
mine is a make-shift parasail

everything is moving
so gently
you wouldnt
notice unless
you kept
so
still.

A room where you have cried.
A room where I have cried.

I’ll turn off the lights
I'll wait for you to come home
so
maybe
you’ll want
to know me
again.