I've always imagined the meaning of Home just being a sole place of residence.
Never experiencing any hesitance in giving evidence
As to why.
Until I looked you in the eye;
I knew that you were Home.
I should have known.
But it was more than your eyes. It was the look you would give me when I needed you most.
I was seen, no longer a ghost.
It was the way your hands would linger on my skin after a warm embrace.
I felt the cold no longer, finally in a safe space.
It was the way you would laugh at my jokes, even though they weren't funny.
And then call me honey.
Much like freshly made honey, your voice brought me warmth.
And just like that, my definition of Home was transformed.
My Home was You.
© horrorhxney/madisonstiff