home sweet home

You were laughing with a hand hoovered over your mouth. I could barely notice the beautiful smile you had beneath it, but despite of that, I didn't mind. The way you spoke, a slur in your speech because you were intoxicated by that fourth Bud Light I witnessed you drinking, made me smile each time. It didn't matter that I was out late tonight, so I stayed and waited for you to find your way home. A conversation that was never supposed to last until sunrise, yet it did. We spoke of being lost in our memories, how fucked up we've become, and how neither of us knew where we were going or what we were doing at that very moment, but despite of that, I didn't mind. The next day, as I drove us to dinner, you mentioned a chip in your tooth along with a story as to why. I couldn't help but smile, thus once more, because now I understood why you made such self-conscious gestures. The things I learned about you within twenty-four hours, and the things that I didn't mind. Perhaps you had found home in me that night as I did in you. But in the end, I guess it wasn't the home sweet home you were looking for.