When are you coming home?

I used to wait by the window for you to come home; I was worried. I scanned the street below; looking for your face; my mind racing; wondering where you were and why you were out so late. Sometimes I’d hear the door open and my heart rate would go down and I could go to bed and drift off to¬† sleep in peace. Other nights I just gave up and hoped eventually you’d come home. The last time ever i saw you looked scroungy and upset; they were arguing with you; either you clean up your act or you cant live here anymore; they said. You left for good that time; never to return home again. At least now I know you’re safe.

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