Theres no place like home… Wherever that may be.
Home is in my mothers arms and in her eyes and the way she holds my bones together.
Home is the smell of breakfast with my grandmother as she eats her pan dulce, drinks her coffee, and smokes her cigarette - in that order.
Home is the car rides with my dad, and even after all these years i feel anxious around him, but our talks are nothing but great.
Home is at a local punk/ska show in the mosh pit with my brothers arm over my shoulders.
Home is a walk with my best friend at midnight as we smoke a joint, make fun of each other, and talk about our day.
Home is being awake at 4am and it feels like the whole world is asleep. Where you’re left with nothing but your thoughts.
Home is in the paper and pen and the countless hours pour my heart into.
Home is my favourite song playing on the radio because some how it feels different when you didn’t pick it from your playlist.
Home is briefly waking up in the middle of the night because its cold and you put a blanket over yourself.
Home is in the mirror, where i look at nothing but myself.
Home is any where and everywhere. Home is where my heart is full, my body loved, and my soul understood.