Home

My house got repossessed when I was about 8. It's okay now, but I can still get into that same head space pretty easily. I was also really sappy, even if I had no one to be sappy to.

When the government takes away your house

at the ripe young age of 8,

and you lose the only home you've ever known,

you give away your dog

and the sheep you've been raising as long as you could hold a bottle.

You don't know home after that.

The apartment you're forced to move into for the low rent

that's smaller than your family could ever live in,

makes you feel like you're suffocating in your own skin.

You feel set adrift on the sea with no end in sight,

days of sailing and no relief,

no land broadening on the horizon.

Nothing feels like home,

nothing feels like safety.

But when I met you,

I found a haven in the hallows of your arms.

I found blue skies in your eyes

and sunshine in your laugh.

I found the gentle kiss of rain in the feeling of your hands.

I found all the starts in the sky in your smile.

Nothing felt like home to me,

until I met you,

and then I understood that home was wherever you were.

That home didn't have a meaning, wasn't quantifiable,

until I saw what it was like to be with you.

And then I understood what home was.

Home was you.

Home was always you.

Author's Note

I originally wasn't going to post this, because I felt like some themes of love/affection weren't right of for a project where everyone could see them, but then I decided that, seeing as I post my poetry publicly on the Internet, I had better get used to lots of people reading it. Freedom of speech and all.