She love.
She loved me and give me warmth on a cold rainy night.
She loved me and hug my anxiety brewing in my tummy.
She loved me and cry with me until we fall asleep.
She loved me and held me tight when I'm falling off my cliff.
She was there for me but not only for me.
She was there for me and anyone for free.
She was there for the people who meant something to her.
And was there for the people who weren't always there.
She was unconsciously beautiful,
Always unaware of why I fall.
The way her eyes wrinkle in a crow feet when she smiles.
Even if she doesn't, she would just look at me and my insides would go extra miles.
To fight for her, against my self.
To fight for her, against herself.
To fight for us, against this world.
To fight for us, against our own memories of those stories that were untold.
Sometimes, when I look at her,
I see her as my own personal lair.
I see her as my pillow I stuffed my face to muffle my cries.
I see her as my last happy pill whenever my mind tricked me to just die.
I see her as my favorite blanket, a softness that could hide me from the world's prying eyes.
I see her as my shell, my wall, my comfort place without a lie.
And I couldn't believe that home felt like her.
She's my safety area when I was attacked by oblivion inside my mind.
I couldn't believe that home smells like her.
She's a musk I couldn't deny that reminds me of the good and the bad times all at once.
I couldn't believe that home sounds like her.
She's a song I'll never skip in a shuffled playlist, a vinyl of her mind, a cassette tape of her soul, hidden beneath her aura is her passion as my favorite genre.
I couldn't believe that home looked like her.
Just like big, tight hugs when my fears won't fray,
Just like long, lazy cuddles at the end of the day,
Just like morning kisses that leave a trail.
Will never stale.
Will always stay.
SNPV | 18:05:03:22:15
She's a collection of tiny little things that reminds me of home.
