Home isn’t a place, it is a feeling
It’s the blanket of stars that cover me each night
The sky is a canopy of kisses
Home is the rush of the ocean waves
As they crash into the solid rocks of the shore
I notice while walking by
I feel the ocean mist spray my face
I taste salt water on my lips
Home is a steady ship in a river of doubts
Home embraces me tightly and allows me to cry
All the pain I carry inside
Home soothes me
It melts the ice cave I created for myself
In order to have the illusion of my own protection and safety
Home doesn’t judge me
It waits like flowers ready to bloom
After heavy doses of snow have melted
In order for the buds to finally reach their true potential
My home is the universe and I am only a tiny piece of it
Home is the beating of my heart
As it races with fear while I run away
From all of my troubles into darkness, seemingly alone.
I test my surroundings to find wool in my hands,
This reminds me of safety and security,
I emerge from the enclosed quarters of a closet,
To smell spices and sweets,
Home is a warm and full belly,
Contentedly, I could lose myself in a favorite book
Or the mind of an intellectual,
When I am tired of the indoors,
I explore my world and step into rain puddles.
I lose myself in my childish splashes
I fling my hair into my face
I am singing my favorite song but also laughing freely
I stop to see an animal rustle in the bushes behind me
Friend or foe, I think to myself.
It doesn’t matter
I see a rainbow highlighting the sky above me
I am home; I smile
I was with you when I found my heart
It took me a while to realize that I needed you
But my need became a parasite
I took and took all that you gave to me
With no remorse for the consequences
Then I realized my actions and told you NO
I gave you walls in hopes of my own protection
Walls, I thought, could stop your love
But it didn’t
And I decided to let you in
Hot and cold I became
Uncertain if it was worth it
Uncertain if I was the one worth fighting for
I watch as the spiders make webs on my windowsill
I wonder about their social structures
And what possibly they are trying to catch
I do not like to think of myself as naive
Though my reality is quite like a daydream
I see the world as if I were living on a cloud
Now that cloud is surrounded by thin layers of silk
The webbing twitching with a fly
And the spider rushes from its secret cove
To cover up its fresh meal
As I glanced at my Romanian pendant,
The light had caught it,
Making it appear to look like
A bee stuck inside amber.
Now I realize,
Is a bee sting.
Hurting my soul
Is the constant reminder
Of what I will always miss,
And never be able to name.
A few weeks back, my Russian had a long chest hair. I think it might have been one of his first ones. His best friend saw it, because I asked him to look at it. I was excited by the one hair because it makes me think about potential. My Russian seemed uncomfortable with the hair, and so I plucked it with my finger tips. Then he exclaimed that maybe it would be the only chest hair that he’d ever have. I shook my head at him and kissed him, a sign not to worry so much about it; that I didn’t care about the hair or no hair on his body.
In my dream, he had a full chest of hair. Long, dark curls covered him. I was grossed out and asked him to get rid of it. He wouldn’t. Instead, he showed everyone his hair and was holding a grudge with me for pulling that one hair. He beamed at what he looked like now.
My Russian was in a play. The stage was light brightly. He was rolling in bed with a blonde woman, a cheat I had not expected. I asked him why he decided to cheat on me. He claimed that he wasn’t. It was a play, and he was only acting a part.
I was with my Russian. We were at a church setting, a gathering, but it was actually at the college I graduated from. There were many people there, and they started to talk about abortion. The people were going to show what abortion actually did the body of the fetus, but my Russian stole the doll from the speaker. He started to run away with it. I ran after him and was yelling at him, my attempt to persuade him to return the doll. I didn’t want him to get arrested for such a thing as stealing a doll. My Russian ignored me but a guard finally did stop him. The guard was standing on a deck that curved around sharply. The guard was holding a paper bag in his hands. The bag had a burger in it, and my Russian finally dropped the toy and he didn’t get arrested for petty theft.