I'll Start From Scratch Again, It's Better Than Starting From Itch

I drove you to your house where you said you sleep and parked the car. It didn't feel right, yet. You looked at me ardently searching your eyes for something that resembled the romance I found in your voice when you asked if I would walk you to the door. I stayed a step behind trying to figure out my place you'd find most satisfactory. You turned around and caught me staring at the pavement's cracks. I grabbed your hips, you leaned in and laughed when I missed your lips. I was hoping it would wake your father whom I imagined was sleeping by the door waiting for you to come home. This moment was too perfect for just the both of us and your porch light. But he didn't wake up. And I didn't care.