My shitty poetry diary

A longing for what once was.

I don't want to get up,
I don't want to leave.
I just want to lie here
And feel your hands on my waistline,
And I want you to tell us we're fine.
But I know it doesn't work like that,
I know that love doesn't have a route or a map.
But the tea we poured is getting cold,
And we don't have time to get home.
And now I'm too much for you to hold.
So now I have to float away,
And you'll find another.
And so I'll go back to my mother and father,
And cry in their arms like I'm little again.