You say I love you. And actions speak louder than words, especially the words I don’t want to say, so I kiss you in response. You seem content with this answer and pull me closer to you. And as I’m undressing you I notice the scars. You told me you were in a bad place before me. And I know you’ll be back there when I go. I stare at your scars. Because I’m wondering if I’m about to leave another one. And I wish I could try for this as much as you seem to be but that’s not who I am and it’s not who I’ll ever be. I’m a drifter. Head on my chest you say I’m your home, and I can’t help but to compare you to a one stop motel. I can hear your breathing even out as you fall asleep. And I’m wondering how I can move out from under you without waking you. I shift but your grip on me just gets stronger. This isn’t too uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll just wait until morning. But when morning comes and I watch you get ready, you turn and smile at me. And I realize how much I love that smile. And I mimic it with my own. All the while trying to find a good reason to leave. But I’m drawing a blank. Of all the one stop hotels, this one feels the most permanent. Almost like a home.