Coming Home

What is he to me?

He is like my battery. Only he can recharge me.

Getting out all the doubt and worry. He gets me running again.

There was something so soothing hearing his low timber voice.

His chuckle. Like bricks rumbling against each other.

His lips. They barley graze my ear and it leaves me breathless.

Such a calm soul.

I know it's terrible to say but I don't know how I'd lived without him. Or more so how I had never felt this alive.

Living inside, quaint-dreadfully peaceful walls. Breaking free to be tossed into a passionate storm, setting me alight with all its spine-tingling thrills.

Finding him was like after trudging through the blistering heat in the desert. Crawling through the night the unforgiving cold.

Finding a warm safe place. A loving embrace.

A cup of coco the warmed me from my tongue to my toes. Finding someone to kiss away my tears. Caressing my face holding me up. Like they could hold the world steady with their two hands.

I could still remember how I was. So cynical, so skeptical.

Oh, how naive of me. Thinking like I was the only one to every be hurt.

Like no one could understand. My struggle, my fear, my pain.

It was what I had been through, and I would go it alone.

But when I saw those warm wise eyes. When he held me. When he kissed me, a feather light touch to my lips. I knew I found my home.