Waiting

When you wait on what has left you.

I still think about calling,

sometimes more often than I should.

On lonely nights after everyone has stopped trying to invite me out,

I don't want to walk the streets knowing I may run into you.

My home is safe because it holds two purposes.

The first is I am safe behind my doors and walls. 

Your warmth won't make them seem bigger any more,

nor will your voice sing beats with the drum in my chest.

I know that in my house I can be with you,

and not with you all at once because it is filled every memory

I once shared with you,

and I can cry.

I can cry and not worry about how my mourning for you,

being misunderstood.

Second, is that my front door is exactly 21 minutes from yours. 

The only way you will find yourself at it again,

is if you want to see if I stopped leaving the light on for you.

My electricity bill is so high,

and I only sleep when I know you're at work.

Because even at 2:37 in the morning,

I'm still waiting for you to come home.