Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2022
stopping to stare into the whispers of a breeze,
to stare into the eyes held within the stars,
to see the faces in the trees.

home,
is within the eye of the beholder.
and for me, everything reminds me of you.
so i guess you have become my home
and my second nature
Mikey
Written by
Mikey  18/Trans/my bed
(18/Trans/my bed)   
176
     --- and camps
Please log in to view and add comments on poems