I’ve never known what home felt like. I never knew a home could be more than a place to spend the empty hours of my day, then I met you and all of that changed. Home has never been a place, it’s been you all along. Even when I didn’t know you, even when you were living a life you never knew I would be part of, even when we were both struggling to move on. Home has always been you. Home is your sea glass eyes and freckles on your cheeks and the feeling of your heartbeat beneath my palm. I can no longer go home, I’ve been partially evicted. You say you need to fumigate yourself before I can move back in, that I’ll only be homeless for as long as it takes you to **** all the bad things inside of you. At first I was okay with it, surely it would be easy to find somewhere else to rest my heart while you got yourself sorted, but it’s been three weeks since I moved out and I’m beginning to fear that I’ll never again come home.