ur sleeping on the couch

sunshine yellow houses & your dimpled smile

the start of an era marks the end of an old one i am not proud to have outgrown my twinsize bed i am not proud to have walked down the staircase one last time. the walls in that house carried secrets even i did not know i contained. the doorways seemed to have shrunk as i grew there is a history text book scrawled in the tiles on the floor. that room was as much a part of me as you are. with your curls and dimpled smile, laying in the grass and letting the earth hold us as we laughed so hard an earthquake should have been announced. we've stared at the stars so long our eyes must've found where we're destined to be. we pushed our burdens on the swing set and ran away before they could come back down. the streets are shaped under our feet, you know, our souls seem to be embedded in brick and concrete. dark nights, dull lights, your mom's cigarettes (which rooftop are we going to again?) and dusty old cars we talked about hot wiring and leaving, running as far as we could before we realized we couldn't run from home. home seemed to follow us like the moon in a car window, home seemed to be whenever wherever you were with me. there's magic brewing in the trunk of the tree we used to lay under, and i know that we left it there. we've left a lot of things, tucked and stowed away under sandcastles and first meetings (you were nine and i was ten and we hated each other immediately) we've left so much that even me finally leaving hasn't seemed to rid me of the echo of your voice.

you and i, you and me, me and you, us.
we know where home is.