Home.

The wind is in my hair, the sun reflecting off the rear view mirror. I've got my leg stretched over the door, as we speed by the country side. Life seems like a journey. Sung through the country music. Felt through the guitar tunes played on the car stereo. I hold on to this view, intoxicated by Budlight.
 
I am lost in thoughts and in flashes of life -- memories of our past flash by. Like a prisoner, out of jail assessing how things could have been. And how meaningful it'd have turned out to be otherwise. The lake, the sunset paint a greater picture of life. 
A thought has consumed me -- to the point of obsession. What does coming home feel like? 

Has it ever occurred to you that you are the only thing I love the most in my life? Did you know you made me fall in love with you?

I see city lights and sober up. Bridges have been built and new buildings constructed. The city looks different, people have changed. So have you and I. Soon, I will walk down that road, knock on your door and call you out. And when I walk into your arms and kiss you -- I'd know, I am home.

"In love, I find happiness which makes everything that heaven has to offer, less desirable." 

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