But my words are ruined
by thoughts of you and me.
And every poem of mine,
Seems to only ever repeat
The same old words,
Like an old favourite song,
Merging into my heartbeat.

Everything I've ever written,
Since you, feels the same,
Feels like homemade pies,
And sunlit arched windows,
Feels like you and me lounging,
Ignoring the rain against the glass,
When the skies get cloudy again,
Us watching a movie we love.

All my words feel like me,
(Lamenting over what

I know will never be,)

And like you, and home.