You became my home.
Then one day,
I realized
I had been
building a life
inside someone
who had already
left the lights off.
So I gathered
the pieces of myself,
and learned
that home
was never
a person.
It was me.
A poetry library for the things that bruise us, the things that bloom anyway, and everything we become in between.
You became my home.
Then one day,
I realized
I had been
building a life
inside someone
who had already
left the lights off.
So I gathered
the pieces of myself,
and learned
that home
was never
a person.
It was me.
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