What is the meaning of a home? Is it an it, he or she? Does it breathe and move or is it concrete, doors and windows?

Home means the freedom to bury my face in the curve of your neck

And rest my worries on your chest until my heart beats in unison with yours.

It means to have our skins touch so closely we cannot tell when mine stops and yours starts

And to hold each other long enough for our beings to diffuse into one another.

To look upon your scars without flinching

And forgive you when you are the cause of mine.

To trust you enough to share my fears

And understand yours enough to alleviate them.

To learn, forget and relearn

And teach, remind and accept.

To come back from a long day to a smile, open arms and listening ears

Or not; Maybe you had a long day too and just want to eat and sleep; That’s OK.

Home means we get to try again tomorrow and the day after.

Its the happy days, angry days and quiet days.

Its hotel rooms, rented apartments and quaint bungalows.

Home is where the heart is

And my heart belongs with you.

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