Tip-toe
Like a ballerina 
Over glitter covered razor blades
That lie on the end of your tongue 
Underneath the backside
Of your beautiful metaphors 
Cause that’s where 
The hurting meets the breakthrough 
Rising up to greet you
In the middle of the day 
When your arms are empty 
And all that’s left are bloody sheets
With tear stained, three-day old t-shirts

The sun shines through the shades
But… even though 
You see the light
You can’t make it through the fog.
So you just lay back down 
Hoping you survive 
For your loved ones
Until tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes
But with a weight
You didn’t need 
To be carrying
You forget sometimes
You aren’t bearing it alone
Not anymore. 
He’s the only person 
Who can drive you
Absolutely, insanely mad
Yet you still, long to come home. 

Even if 
There are pieces 
Of you both 
Forever missing
A love filled shack 
Is better any day 
Than an empty mansion. 
He is home.