House < Home

Growing up, I did not have a home.

I had a house.

These two words are not the same.

A home is love.

A house is a place.

My house was broken, it was never a home.

I never wanted to be there, so I did my best to stay away.

Day in and out.

I was emotionally, spiritually, and mentally alone.

Could not count on my parents, I learned in a painful way.

My father was addicted to drugs.

My mother had work and school.

I was left to step up to the plate.

Mentoring my younger siblings was a hard task to follow.

I tried to stand on my own two feet, but my heart was becoming hollow.

Could not count on my parents, it was a tough pill to swallow.

Nothing ever felt right, our family was broken.

Knew from the beginning that our life was not right.

Always being told to stay in my place, but I never felt I had any.

Cried quietly to myself everyday on my pillow.

I wished I could have a different family.

Or that I was not alive.

Father said to my face when I caught him in a lie.

That I was not his daughter because I would not conform.

I never went along.

WIth the issues inside our house.

Inside a house that was never a home.

Being young, hatred grew inside me until it hollowed out my heart.

I screamed when I turned 18, I would leave.

I would never look back, but it did not stay that way.

As I grew older, my heart filled differently.

I learned to be understanding and forgiving.

Opening my heart to things I once closed off.

I found someone to love, who loves me.

Someone who could understand.

Our pain was different but our mindsets aligned.

We found comfort knowing that our past was behind.

Us.

Love and I.

Together we grew, both for the better.

One day we moved in together.

Inside this place, things felt different.

I was scared and nervous.

A heavy weight on my chest.

Ashamed to admit that when life feels too trouble-free.

I resort to thinking that it is all temporary.

I could not accept that this could be great.

Because I knew how houses worked.

They always fell apart at the seams, tearing up everything that is right.

Similar to a tornado, ruining all happiness in sight.

Love took my hand, and led me inside.

My eyes would not open, as words flowed around.

This is not a house.

This is our home.

It will never be like that old house that you once knew.

This is new.

Filled with love and care.

We have each other.

A home with you and I.

Never be afraid of this life that I have with you.

I never had a home, but now I do.

I have a home with love.

Love has a home with me.

It is not just a physical place.

But much more.

Emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

The home I have is love.

My home.