home, again

“with you around, it doesn’t matter where i am— it feels like home. the way you speak my silence, hold space for the weight i never knew i carried, it’s not a house, not a place, but something softer than safety. maybe i just discovered it, this quiet warmth that doesn’t ask me to shrink or be louder than i feel. maybe i’ve been walking barefoot through every goodbye just to arrive here— where your presence feels like a porch light left on for someone like me. and maybe i still don’t understand love fully, but i know this: i no longer ache to leave. i no longer look for exits. i no longer dream of elsewhere. i am, finally, home.”