I’ve lived around the world.

In fact I moved when I was 18,

I left my home and found another,

 

But was that home?

 

Layered bricks and walls with posters,

soft warm bed and candles lit by it

to make it

home-y,

 

But was that home?

 

‘a house is not a home’

yet I still feel like I really miss

my house, where my mom and my cat

are waiting patiently for my return,

 

But was that home?

 

No.

 

My home is made of flesh,

he breathes and feels.

He keeps me sane.

 

My home is you

coming back from work,

holding me in your arms,

tightly.

 

I am home only when

I am with you.

You are my home.