Home.
Home is where I lay on top of.
Home still wants me there even when there is crust in my eyes, dried drool around the corners of my mouth and prickly hairs pointing in odd angles.
Home still opens the door for me.
Home and I don't know know such a thing as worry, but I have seen home at its destruction and home has seen me in mine.
Home knows the kind of tea I like and what mug to pour it into.
Home knows the right kind of lighting I prefer when I read poems.
Home knows the right temperature.
Home knows I like my windows open but not my closet door, cause in my old home opening closet doors and coming out got you kicked out.
Home knows not to wrinkle my sheets but to place itself nicely the way I
was placed into home's heart.
was placed into home's heart.
Home is safe. Home is Comfort.
Home is joy, peace, and all the other
wonderful things.
wonderful things.
Home is a place I never want to leave.
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