It was you.

It was the time we spent dancing slowly to christmas music in front of the fake fire on the TV.

It was you.

When we whispered to one another in the moonlight fingers entwined.

I pretended I was strong though I was broken. You told me that you would take care of me. That there would be struggles but none that I would have to handle alone. But I have learned the hard way that when I am hurting that no one is coming to save me. No matter how many times they say that they can and will.

It was your house, not mine. I only had a small duffel bag. But you made it feel as though we had lived there for years. You sat on the roof to eat grapes with me even though you were scared. We stayed up all night talking. Didn’t even realize until the sunlight began to come in through the blinds. It was your apartment.

But with you I was home.