during the past few years my idea of home sort of vanished
mostly because the physical presence of home seemed more like a representation
than the feeling of comfort i once felt
a lot of anxiety, a lot of anger
it's increased over the years and i felt as if my only place of comfort
rested in my room because i was able to be alone, with myself and that gave me comfort
over time my room shifted to feeling like a sense of confinement, how quickly symbols transform.

this past month has been really hard.
really really hard.
but within that i've made a lot of progress and a lot of change
it was like the excuse of the heavy nature of what was around me let me spill open like a cracked egg.
yolk everywhere.
and this was mostly done to ali.
i spilled
and spilled
and spilled
even though i thought i got it all out.
turns out- there's always more left in you.
soon, i began to feel a sense of home.
because i was able to completely trust someone other than me.
it was like my home became a nest of two tree houses where i stretched a branch out to him
and together we created a bridge to harbor life.
our life.

it's going to be three years with this guy soon.
he's loved me for five and we've only been together for three.
i've lost my sense of forever some years ago,
but he always seems like the sun to me,
though it is said it will burn out- it seems nearly impossible for me to imagine it no longer burning.
home.