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 Apr 2015 Moon Ariella
december
home
 Apr 2015 Moon Ariella
december
If you asked me to define home, I'd picture her.

I wouldn't think about my leather couch, but her brown eyes that fill up the room more than any piece of old furniture ever could.

It is not the drapes I played Hide-N-Seek in as a child, because her hair is so much better to get lost in.

My home is not my first house that seemed like a labyrinth to my tiny fingertips, because her mind has far more hidden rooms to discover.

My house has chipped paint on the walls, but my home.. she is covered perfectly.

If you could substitute a photograph for a dictionary definition, it would be her silhouette beside the word "home."

But you see, the problem with home is that you never realize its importance until you can't have it anymore.

Her heartbeat no longer sounds like my mother making breakfast in the kitchen on a Sunday morning, it's the one creaky step I used to skip over because of its gut wrenching noise.

I can't stop thinking about her. I have nowhere to run to, because her arms aren't wide open anymore, they're closed and locked like my bedroom door. I'm homesick.
 Dec 2014 Moon Ariella
Metanoia
despite everything
here we are
with a beautiful opportunity
to change what we don't like
about ourselves
sometimes we dwell
on what's been lost
we pass by
like shadowy dusk
unnoticed
but despite it all
we stumble forth
growing growing
growing
 Dec 2014 Moon Ariella
Bubz
You don't hate Mondays ...

You hate your life... Leave Mondays out of this.

Nobody should hate a day.


This is a gift.


You are a blessing.

This is not a poem.

— The End —