I found home
in purple sheets
with her sleepy eyes
that lit with something
that apparently
I put inside of her
when the lights went out

home was breathing to me
in and out
like some kind of
involuntary action
but my house
was not a home
even before it
burned
or before I think
he ***** me

something there had
never been quite right
and I noticed it most
when I was at home
in those purple
sheets and her
messing hair
and her illuminating eyes

oh and I noticed
the feeling of
home sickness
when they took her away
and I still haven't
found a way
to be truly close to her
without seeing her
but I'll find a way
to go back home
soon enough

I'm not nostalgic
for a place that doesn't exist.
I'm nostalgic for
a girl who
let me roll around
in her bed
as our legs intertwined
and we laughed
until we couldn't
help but kiss.
I'm nostalgic for
a home that I
couldn't legally call mine
but I say is anyhow.
I want to go home.
and there is nothing wrong with that.