236 oak st & heleneCamila Ayala
there is no love like domesticity,
no greater bearing of my soul
than to let you into my home
wrap you in my blanket and
ask you to stay a while.
an old friend and a baby cat watch the window.
little kisses for both.
i make you something i learned
through watching my mother,
absentmindedly sprinkling in some of my life force or whatever woo-woo term ive been
using lately to describe that here i am
and here you are
and for some reason i cannot tell you that i love you over and over again
because i guess that’s not really what friends do.
so i feed you something warm and trim your bangs in the bathroom and let you read my
tarot.
you can sleep here all day, you won’t bother me.
maybe we talk or maybe we don’t.
either way i ask,
please, sit on the floppy purple couch and let yourself be loved.
after all, its all i can do.