It just doesn’t fit sometimes,
My heart.
It cannot extend into
The reaches of you
And settle there, like home
I can’t find home sometimes
In these brief moments.
It’s like I miss you,
You are not there,
Even when you are
And I feel lonely, detached, isolated.
Where does this bleeding broken
beating thing go,
If it has to struggle to fit?
I always come back to you.
I always make it work.
I look back into the rear view
Seeing something that was, briefly,
Moving forward with you
Even when we don’t quite fit.
But we will make it fit.
Because my heart
Loves yours.
Erika
