So maybe you’re running scared without the running.
there are hands on your thighs that tell you
every place i touch is a home to me.
and you feel lucky that somebody finally thinks that
you’re worthy of being a roof to them.
and you know what it’s like to move from place to place,
from group to group, from person to person,
looking for a place where your heart and stomach doesn’t
look too big or too small for the people around you.
I’ll let you in on a secret:
your heart will always be the same size.
instead of finding the perfect sized hands to fit it into,
find a pair that will wrap its fingers around you,
find a pair that will stretch its bones to breaking point
because it can’t bear the thought of leaving you vulnerable—
because it knows you will always be a home, whether you
have a roof to offer or not