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Do you remember your last night at home? The home you grew up in with the familiar cracks in the paint and the squeaky sound of the stairs. 

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In fact, I was pretty much oblivious to anything untoward about where I grew up.  

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It is as though my heart has just settled next to a crackling fire.

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I pray to hear your heartbeat next to mine, creating a rhythmic cadence that will last until the end of time.

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Make a good story of it when you finally heal. Leave behind all that negativity, but take your lessons with you when you go.

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I guess I wasn’t really a stranger anymore.

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If there’s anything we want to find in life other than love, it would be home.

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I wear our memories on my sleeve like paintings on a wall. I soak in our laughter like sun-soaked curtains on a bright afternoon. I recall your voice in my head like a record player stuck on repeat.

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It’s where your heart beats, and your mind grows.

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For me, the definition of home has been ever changing.