I still remember the first time we met; you stepped off the train and into my arms and you hugged me so tight it took my breath away. you felt so safe, like hiding under the covers during a thunderstorm when you're six years old and the world is still too scary.
I remember the car ride home. my mom drove us and we both sat in the back seat but both of us were too afraid to reach the few inches across the middle seat to hold the others hand. it was filled with nervous glances and middle school giggles.
I remember our first kiss, awkward and fumbling because I wasn't quite sure how to do it yet. I remember you kissing my cheeks, my neck, my nose, my forehead before you would kiss my lips. when you finally did I felt it jolt through my entire body and I knew I wanted to kiss you for the rest of my life.
I remember the first night we spent together, you held me so close I could feel your heartbeat in my back while I fell asleep and I'm still searching for that feeling because it's the first place that's ever felt like home.
I remember the first time you touched me, your hands gently gliding on top of my skin, terrified to hurt me.
I remember when you told me to leave. it was clumsy and messy, things you told me I was too much of to love. I remember crying in your basement while you sat in, what was supposed to be, our bed, alone.
I remember the cross country flights to go back to my parents house and how badly I didn't want to return. the house that I've grown up in has never felt like home like you did.
I remember the months of suffering alone in a bed that we once shared wishing you could come back to it, but knowing that you never would.
it's been a year since I've been within a thousand miles of you and I think I'm finally finished searching for you in everything I do.
it's been a year since I've been within a thousand miles of you and I think I've finally stopped thinking of you as home.