Bring Her Home

He wished he would have meant when he said he loved her,

He wished he had not, when he blurted he couldn’t,

The silent thoughts in his mind were screaming to be let go,

The type that hid the violent truths that could bring her home.

He wondered if she held the same poetic passion for another,

The type to give someone those cinematic powers to hurt her,

Like she gave him, Like he hurt her..

Over trivial affairs, over the hypothetical loss of one another,

over his attempt of having trivial affairs.

Albeit Another is coming, and another was here last night,

The only difference remaining, he wishes he was kissing her smile.

Another pair of beautiful hands held, another girl drunk on her toes,

Another one enters his door, and he wishes he could bring her home.

Now he lies in his bed, wondering if someone else lies in his bed, 

listening to her footsteps in the kitchen.

With her hands on utensils, they cannot cook; but she will not listen.

He wishes someone puts an end to all these wishes & memories running on loop,

wishes someone puts this girl to sleep, who is in his bed; and gives him a pill too.

He wishes someone would pull him out of this darkness, perhaps make sense to how his life got so hollow.

He wishes if someone can see her, will tell her how, in company, he feels alone;

but someone who will meet her will also want to bring her home.