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i'll never be home

stole her scissors
crying on the bathroom floor,
it’s muscle memory.
4 months have passed,
but my body remembers.
when you were there with me, 
leaning on the sink,
holding my hands,
telling me you love me
while i told you i didn’t love myself.

i go back to when
you were the one picking me up
after i drank too much
after i told you i didn’t want to be there
after i mistreated you again
and again.
it had to stop because you were hurting
and i was the one landing the blows.
it had to stop because i couldn’t stand
hurting myself,
knowing it hurt you more.

but i lie in bed on a sunday night,
and cry for you.
for what we had, 
how happy we were.
for what i lost,
and what i ignited inside of you.
i never wanted you to hurt this bad,
i thought that it would help you. 
time away from me,
i was the one causing you pain, after all.
but i’m selfish,
don’t let you heal,
keep on calling.

you deserve the world.
you deserve someone who loves themself
someone who knows how to love you.
someone who can work with you 
instead of against.
but you told my best friend
that you didn’t want someone better,
that you just wanted me.

i tell myself that i broke your heart twice,
but i know that there were so many more.
times when i brushed you off,
times when i got angry,
times when i didn’t tell you i was hurting,
when you saw it on my body.

how can you still love me?
how can you look at me,
at everything i’ve done,
and still want more?

and i hate to say this,
but i want it too.
i want the late nights in my basement,
board games with my family.
i want the parties with your friends,
and the long bus rides home.

every tuesday night,
i look out to my front step 
and see ourselves there.
every week for a year,
saying “I love you, text me when you get home”
but no matter where i am,
in my room,
with another partner,
with my family,
with my best friend,
i’ll never be home.

i’ll never be home, 
if i’m not with you.

Copyright © Mack Karachekhlian

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