And that's really saying something, because usually I insist on driving.
But I would let you take me home tonight. Pull me from the car and deposit me somewhere safe and warm, like the couch. I would put up no fight and let you feed me something comfort foodish, like soup and tell me that you know what's best for me. Close my eyes, secure myself in your iron gate arms.
Because I need you to shelter me. And that is unusual for me. But I need your shelter now. Need you to rock away the nightmares and force my heartbeat to slow and match yours.
I would let you take me home tonight and keep me there. Though I never thought I'd want to be kept ever. I'd let you shelter me from the storm. Weather the worry.
Because I need a place to stay. Where there are no strings. I need a place to recoup. My body is stiff and sore from the recoil that I've mired myself in. I would take your hand.
I would let you take me home tonight.