My mom always warned me to not make homes out of people,
I should've listened.
But somehow the way your hips felt while I held you in the middle of the street at 11 PM reminded me of my childhood home,
And it never snows in my hometown but you're beautiful like waking up to snow on Christmas morning,
Cold.
My father left when I was 7 and when you promised to stay I wanted to hold you,
But two months after that I asked you if you still loved me and you said not really,
It always hurts more the 2nd time around.
My psychologist told me to not let you complete me,
but I had this princess bed when I was 5 and I love you.
When I met you the house I lived in had crumbled to the ground,
So you took me to parks in an intent to make those my homes.
But little did you know that I knew every detail about the way you moved and I would've been able to trace you in pitch blackness.
When you left I remembered how when my mom saw my scars she cried.
She told me that although our family was small we were still a family.
After that I promised myself I would always smile at the homeless.
My runaway heart is still searching for its home in you