When I was fourteen
And looking for Home
They told me I'd find it
Between lavender walls
And wooden floors
They said it'd smell like
Warm sugar cookies
And fresh hazelnut coffee
They said I'd cry into
The softest of pillows
And wrap my broken limbs
Around the warmest of blankets
But by the time I made it there
The walls were lined in bruises
The floors were cold and calloused
It smelled like cigarettes,
Whiskey
And cherry incense
The pillow I cried into
Would rise and fall
In an uneasy rhythm,
Sometimes breaking off
Into random shaking
And the blanket I wrapped
My broken limbs around,
Often had broken limbs
Of its own
Because
When I finally found Home
It wasn't a place at all
But a boy with bloodshot eyes
And a crooked smile