At times I would worry at the thought of leaving my little home behind. I admit to being a creature of routine, a human of many silly habits. How I hang my keys on the desk peg, how I kick away my shoes and sling up my bag. This is the only world I’ve known, the only life I’ve had.
And you came along and it all went to hell, I spent my nights in your arms and dreams and just like this, oh! How I fell. On the mornings I found myself in my own bed I would wake up with your music in my head, crazy in love and dissociated from where I was content. Drowning in the constant ebb of displacement, I struggled with where I would be happy and where I could call home.
So many times I would dreams of the open world, so many spaces to call and claim my heart. How would the air feel in my wanderstruck lungs in Italy or Spain, Germany or Austria…and with these thoughts came the sinking feeling that a part of me was indeed missing from each place.
For what would home be without you? You and your kisses and your smiles and your laughs. You and your dreams and your music and your energy.
You are home to me.