hole(y)
the rumble of an engine restarts my heart its only 11pm but it's only just begun warm air fills my nose as I open the door to run to you throwing myself into a passenger seat that feels like mine a night ride through familiar streets of a town, I called home looking so quiet now with the world being asleep shadows catching the angles of a face I never noticed before a crooked laugh and careful feet old stairs and uneven floor you left the hall light on and the dog out trying hard to stifle a smile as we enter like ghosts unseen but probably heard looking up I see the hole looking back at me from where it sits in the wall and the faint smell of long-forgotten cigarettes and an empty whiskey bottle dashed with dried Georgia clay a foreign place feeling so much like home more so than where I rest at night soft worn sheets and tv on brings me back to when my house was actually a home how do you do that to me