My Person

Drunk, beaten, and bruised.
That was my state,
The night I first met my person,
The one I’ve been searching, for years.

The moon wasn’t shining,
As bright as the books ,
Made them out to be on such nights,
Though the stars themselves,
Looked way too tired of holding the fort,
As the clouds hovered with pride,
Daring them to show up.

The winds were not as harsh as the previous day,
And the atmosphere was relatively calm;
The perfect setting to meet the person,
Who could change my life for the better.
On that cold night,
And alone on the highway,
The short locks of hair met my eyes,
As I took note of the 5’6″ human in combat gear.

I needed to get home,
And though I had none,
I loved the idea,
That someday,
Someone would be my home,
Maybe that’s why I paused,
In the middle of the road while crossing,
Oblivious to the cargo truck headed my way,
Yet very focused,
On the human with short locks of hair headed my way.

I don’t remember much,
Other than waking up,
Feeling empty, lost, and…
Deprived.