inhaling the sweet familiar scent of her perfume,
warmth rushes through me and coats me as the smell of smoke would at a campfire,
kissing her soft lips and holding her tiny hands,
i feel so much peace,
sighing my heart knows it’s reached the home it’d be looking for,
dripping in sunlight she welcomes me back,
doesn’t ask questions and doesn’t expect anything,
just runs her henna-decorated fingers
through my messy tangled hair,
“beautiful” she calls it,
“art” she calls me,
and “mushy” she whispers as she sinks into me;

we are bittersweet like,
that crap honey americano i had earlier today,
our anxiety more of an undertone to the warmth and soft touches,
for we might loose the homes we made within each other
without notice or warning,
till then
we will
we will
be home.

3:05pm, 5/oct/2016