Since I was fifteen,
I’ve searched for a home.
Somewhere my heart could
live instead of constantly roam.
I’ve craved a place or town
where I felt loved and accepted.
But every time I thought I got
close, fate simply intercepted.
Sometimes, I even found nostalgic
comfort in new and exciting places,
but I always ended up feeling
betrayed by the same familiar faces.
All along, while I’ve looked for
picket fences or a cul-de-sac street,
I never realized I’d find my home
inside two big brown eyes and a heartbeat.