each time i get home. as i enter my room, or my apartment. i wish i had come home to that/a special someone.
he could be balled-up at the couch, watching tv, football. basketball.
he could be asleep, on the couch. got tired while waiting for me to come home.
that i’d find him sound asleep, on our bed.
that i’d find him awake, on our bed; doing his work on his notebook.
that i’d find him half-awake, sheepishly waiting for me.
that i’d find him pretending to be asleep; then pounce on me as i get ready to quietly tuck myself into bed.
i hate opening doors. i hate my wishful thinking – but i know it will eventually come back to me.
hang in there slayer, in time…in time…don’t hate opening that door. It’s always good to want for whats on the either side. It’ll come eventually
thanks sponge. i know it’ll eventually come back to me *slimy hugs*