You stuck to my fingers. I pushed you through cracks, under locked doors. I hid you behind the top left post of my bed. I prayed that I could ignore you and build a home of my own; Fill it with children that were not mine and love tangible enough to boast of.
I made you into a metaphor, A word. I left you by my night-stand, Arose and fell to the sight of your name. I wrote you on the palm of my hand, Awoke with you upon my cheek.
You were used, my love, kept my heart from roaming far from His home. He has sweet melodies to woo me, the warmth of a families' love to soothe my spirit. I held you for my own heart's sake, When it is asked of me I will leave you for His.