For my eyes to rest on yours is at best

The closest they'll ever get to

Saying what needs to be said.

But more than a rest stop, I want a home.

I have found a home but without a keyhole

Where although my soles are tired and burned from the

Cold fire floor of your heart

I fall to my knees to kiss it still,

Where the ceiling pealing drops like falling snow

To fall on my skin as shock therapy,

Where windows are stained and cracked

I can still see a brilliant sunrise through the glass.

For you are my final destination

Where a dead end sign is no warning but a welcoming