They say home is where the heart is,
Home is where you return after traveling.
That home is where you were born....

I say- home is wherever or whatever that makes you feel like never leaving

I was born and raised in lowell
A textile city
With hooves echoing in cobblestone streets
And looms clanging in hollow mills

But it is not Home...

My house is just a place I sleep,
Yes i return there from long travels
Yes, i write down my address
on applications and quizzes

But it is not Home...

16 years
And i have found Home

Home is in a pair of arms
A place where i feel safe and secure
Even gringotts bank
Cannot make me feel like this

I found home
In your arms
When you wrap them around me
A ribbon surrounding four sides of one person- me
I wish i could stay there forever

Home is not a thing
Or place...
But a space
The hollow of your arms

It has taken 16 years
To find a place i would miss
To find a place i never want to leave

I was told to never depend on a human being
But when have i ever listened?
I depend on home
Being open
When my darkest thoughts
Threaten to roam


They say home is where you make it.
Where you choose

I believe this is a lie
I did not choose you,
The only choice i had was becoming your friend

But meeting you, was fate
And finding home in your arms
Was beyond my control...

Finding home
Is random
It can happen in a brief second
Or a glance...

You fall in love with it immediately
An explosion of realization
And slap of clarity.

An icy breath ran down my spine
The first time you hugged me
And the warmth of your arms
Melted the blizzard
Surrounding my heart

I have finally found home
And its not a place
Nor object

Its not stationary
Or easy

It travels
It arrives and leaves
Its difficult, complex and something
Beyond belief...

My home,
Is you...
Whether we like it or not

That is where My Home is