Home.
When you're little,
Home is a house that people live in.
Your home is where you live.
You don't give it much thought.
~
You get a little older,
Home is somewhere a perfect little family lives,
A mom and and a dad and two kids, a boy and a girl.
Your home is where your family lives
You still don't give it much thought.
~
Then you hear the phrase, "Home is where your heart is".
You later realize that it isn't meant literally,
It means that home is where your heart wants to be,
Belongs.
Is loved.
That is true home.
~
As with most things,
Some people find home quickly and easily.
A warm hearth with a loving family and perfect friends.
Others stumble and scramble to find it,
Some get lost along the way,
And some, sadly, never find it...
~
A house can be broken,
Wretched parents,
Abusive.
Alcoholic.
Scaring.
But a true home isn't always a place.
And the people who make up your home,
Aren't always perfect.
They have stories,
And traumas,
And their own inward struggles.
But you love them,
So that stuff doesn't matter so much.
And you save each other.
Because you're all home.
You are all safe.
This home.
~
A home for the heart,
Is never broken.
Never violent.
Never mean.
Its a place of peace,
Where you are surrounded by the people,
And perhaps the animals,
Who have changed your life for the better.
My home is much too far away at the moment.
Stretched in multiple directions.
Because there can be many pieces to one's home.
And you don't always know where they are.
~
But the biggest piece to my puzzle,
The missing link in my life,
I know exactly where he is.
And I know that I belong in his arms,
Forever.
I will stay with him till my last breath.
And I am working as fast as I can to make my escape,
From damaged house,
To perfect home.
