It has been 2 weeks
Seven hours
And fourty three minutes.
Since I found my home.
My home is not a place, or a thing
No my home is a person
A boy so pure, so sweet he could melt people with just his smile
His laugh
I found my reason for living
He makes me feel so healed
So welcomed
So fucking alive it makes me want to cry sometimes
How did I get so lucky with a masterpiece like him?
And it's not his looks, it's his personality
He is the most gentle person in my eyes
So pure
I can't fathom how people would hurt him
I am a shell of a broken woman
with a faulty sense of humor
a brain made of gears
And I managed to actually love, to keep
My home
Healing is a process that takes time
Much of it, and I am so so genuinely happy
That I'm with HIM
My home.
