syrah

baby, the moon is blurry,

and i am worried,

that i am too tired to drive.

so let’s pull over,

throw a blanket over the clover,

and turn off the headlights.

because i can never get enough of you.

even when we struggle,

and i wonder,

who are you, and

why do you feel a stranger to me?

even then, i won’t pretend to not need you.

you'll say something dear,

something i needed to hear,

and it will become clear again:

that you are my home.

a home i chose.

the best kind of home.

so, now, even when i long to be alone,

i wish you to never, ever be too far away.