I found my home
But not in the traditional sense you'll never find it on a map or drive past it. Most people will never see my home or be part of it. My home lives in my mind.
It's the quiet moments the the laughter the tears the joy and the disappointment. My home is made of the people who love me. Not the people I love because I haven't yet figured out how to love. Nor the people I trust because I trust too easily.
It's the people who stand up for me and cry for me and laugh with me. The people who won't leave when I snap at them because I haven't slept in 4 days. The people who understand that I'll never love them the way they love me. The people who let me trust without consequence. The people who understand that my love and trust kill me.
The people who won't leave when I break.
MY FAMILY. MY HOME. MY PEOPLE. MY LIFE.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Cry
PoetryThese are poems I've written over the years and people have told me should be shared so that's what I'm doing. There will be a lot of triggers and traumatic experiences mentioned. All of these have been listed in the first part of this story so go c...
