May 9, 2012

A Thought Of A Dreamer #15

Home is where the heart is.” You told me, and my heart waned and waxed and dropped its petals. 

I’ve never really had a home.” I had told you quietly. 

Never had your definition of a home.” 

But oh, how could I tell you, my midnight boy, that my postal address was in the floods and wildflowers of your chest - that I’d been meandering aimless roads and words and street-side margins without a home to return to, without a welcome mat to greet me. 

How could I tell you that it had hurt to stand outside underneath dripping clouds for sixteen years - believing, so desperately, that I’d be content as a drifter, as a girl held to the ground by strings. How could I tell you how easy it was to breathe knowing that you’ve unlocked your door for me, ushered me inside, kissed me dry besides the warmth of the hearth? 

Maybe that’s all I was looking for, for someone to take in these wide eyes and unruly hair. I’ve made myself home in the crook of your elbow, in the hollow of your neck, in the dip of your hip.

 I’ve planted gardens between your lips and I’ve grown roses beneath my kisses. Ivy climbs your limbs, and I’ll lay dormant in the comfort of your palms. I’ve hung up my hat and have put my slippers away. 

You’re home. I’m home.

Maybe all I needed were walls to believe in...

No comments:

Post a Comment