Home.

I stored the boxes in “my” room.
I wonder what’s there now.
I left my home to come home to myself.
Everyday I think about one thing I miss about you and everyday I discover one thing about myself.

I’m not sure the trade is fitting, for I would have traded my soul to be entwined in yours forever.
We escaped the world, but not it’s cruelties.
We hungered for a future we created.
We called this place home.

But home was not defined by gray bricks, nor was it defined by gray emotions.
Our hearts were black and white.
The roof kept us shielded from the rain and snow and sleet.
But our minds kept us shielded from the truth.

That our homes within ourselves were crumbling all around us.
The roof had collapsed and water was pouring in faster than we could catch it.
Despite how hard we tried.
The damage had been done.

I long to call you home again.
Your arms, the foundation for love.
Perhaps when the rain stops, the cracks repaired, the fireplace burning again.
Perhaps then we can return home.

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