I wonder if they miss me
I wonder if they’re proud of me
Once I’d grown up I forgot all about them
Once I’d grown up I left the house and hoped to never see them

I miss how it felt to be within their strong embrace
They used to be strong and kept me hidden, kept me safe

Now they just seem so small when I’m around them

And frail when I touch them

Thin

They watched me lose all of my friends
Over and over and over again
Kept an unblinking eye on the road
When they knew I was out somewhere, and I was probably cold, and alone

The days I ran excitedly home
The days I was miserable, or irritable, or preferred my phone

I used to shout my hateful spit at them
They would never reprimand, nor react, which was what I needed, for them to understand

They never spoke but they always welcomed me home

They listened to me implore God to start
They listened to me implore God to stop

Somehow, I miss them a lot

Nobody knows me like the four walls of my childhood bedroom do