Often we try to associate the feeling of being home to people. We think their arms are the walls that will bring warmth to our frozen hearts. We think their eyes are the windows of the soul that will see you through your absolute best, your worst, and your shortcomings in life. We think their feet are the ones that will bring us to places we've never been before, places you thought only existed in our minds. We think their bodies are the wholeness of the house, the roof, and the floor, and we try our best to be at our comfort, just to feel safe and sound. Just to know that we are not alone. We associate them with being our home, thinking that this is what it's supposed to be, sharing beds and blankets, dreams and hopes, the pretty parts and the ugly parts.
But honey, stop making homes out of the arms of people who used to be yours.
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A/N: Hello there, stranger. Some of you may have known me as the writer of the story Tall and some other more unfinished stories I have yet to pen again. But this is also me being at my most vulnerable. This is A Map to Anyone's Heart, a collection of poems about love, loss, and gain. I hope you will enjoy your stay.