I Wasn't Ready To Say Goodbye.

Stay.

Home. Home is a feeling. A sense of belonging actually. Humans don't just want a roof above their head, they aren't that materialistic. They want to feel safe, comfortable, tranquil, or even sorrowful, mad, destressed in their own special place...or person.

He was home for me.

Him, with his dark slender eyes, spiky haircut and sharp jawline. His big strong arms and muscular back. His scent always reminding how serious of a man he was; wood with a tone of citron, the Chanel's classic "Blue".

He had a unique style, a 1980's one. Dad jeans with a matching denim jacket, a loose shirt and sneakers. He rode a Yamaha Virago 750 with pride around the busy streets of south Carolina. He wouldn't carry his phone around neither tell you where he was going. He wasn't like that. He was a mystery himself. A mystery I craved to understand.

"Brunette would suit you better. " Those were the first words he ever said to me, when he sat next to me at the local bar, beer in hand.

And that was it. A week after we started dating I dyed my dazzling blonde hair, for him.

"You could gain some weight." He whispered sweetly as he was caressing my hair on a chilly evening at my apartment.

And I did. We were dating for 3 months back then and I began to add more meals to my daily routine, for him.

"Buy that short skirt, it would look great on you." He said with admiration in his eyes.

"I am not quite sure. It's not really my style." I doubted. The length of the skirt was too short for me.

"Yes, honey bean I know. But it looks lovely on you." He whispered as his hands touched my waist in the changing room. His voice a sweet whisper to my ears. "You should buy it. Do it for me."

And I did. I did everything for him. I would even go to hell for him, if that meant I would hold his hand on the way down there.

Until...

Until one night that changed everything.

He had left to buy us dinner. As planned, when he left riding his motorcycle, I put on some make up and one of the little black dresses I had bought with him. I curled my shinny hair and wore his favorite red high heels. We were supposed to have a romantic dinner as soon as he came back.

The thing is...he never came back.

I waited and waited for what seemed like years but he never came home to me that night. I run outside, screaming his name, pleading for him to come back while rain was fast falling onto me, it seemed like the sky was crying as hard as I did. I fell to my knees shaking, my hands hiding my face as I couldn't stop sobbing, shivers running through my body.

"Why?" I bellowed.

"I wasn't ready to say goodbye."