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He felt like home.
Like grandpa’s hugs and granny’s kisses.
Like a  school bus ride home, and  evening sunsets. Like afternoon
Lunch with your Best-friends.

He felt like home.
Arms with an instant ease of peace, chocolate lips
And a grin so sweet. He felt like ice cream on a summers day.
He felt like a sunshine ray , and a Shooting stars runaway.

He felt like home
He felt like  Twilight, New Moon, and Breaking Dawn.
He was was as high as the sky  and as bright as Nebula.
He felt like why have I never felt this way before?

He felt like a shower after a long day at work, like back-rubs
And bath bomb soap . He felt like India’s Aries “Brown skin…
 I can’t tell where mines is and where yours begins”.
He felt like hopes redeeming  and pains end.
He felt like home.

Of course felt is past tense.
But it’s still memorizing to dream of who we used to be. The trauma that can
Happen when direct and in-direct meet. Like I’m saying things I don’t mean
Because you act a certain way and you say what sounds right to make me feel
Ashamed  but neither one of us really felt that way.

Silly sibling banter of who hurt who more or
The feeling like dealing with one another is  a chore.
Throwing gabs-where it hurts the most, tongue’s ready
To blow smoke.

Where indirect and direct meet
The one who doesn’t talk much and the other who over communicates.
Both unwilling to back down from their turf. Ready to throw everything
Away from a lack of control. Because we both can’t be mad or it’s
All hell on earth.
.
Now my four walls barely feel like home.
The feel like where is my friend.
My confidant, my Clyde.
Where is my moonlight, starlight my sunshine.
Where is my, “OMG come here”. Where
Are my kisses on my ear. Where is my love
My short and stocky, sweet and cocky
thrill.

Where is my home sweet home.


Comments

The Help

Soul Dancing Unapolgetically

 I have been too fearful of my own potential, my own strengths and my own voice. I let my broken pieces define me and became content with being a mess.  Is everyone this hard on themselves or am I too rigid to see that my flaws are human, nothing less. That my pain is identifiable that my fears are shackles of the brain, and my potential is undeniable.  Where did I learn to self-hate? Who can I truly Blame for such an ugly pattern of I’m not happy to wake up and see my own face.  I get so stuck in my misery that I block out the whole world until I feel like myself  again.   It takes too much energy to dwell in the past, and even more to pass around smiles that are fake.  I find myself disconnecting from my core, and I see only the masquerade I bore. It gets dark, so dark when you’re an empath who can feel to the depths of ones soul.  I will take on all the negative energy but in hopes that something nurturing can be reborn.  They say don’t let anyone throw that on you and I won’t anymo

No Ethnicity

By: Jasmine Hudspeth

Belong To Me

 I am comfortable with the fact that no one belongs to me. It makes the challenge for love so much more sweet. The idea that someone is with you because they choose to be, is what makes it honorable even through those moments of misery.  I love, love, but can be complacent in such a fantasied daydream. I fight wars within myself to pull me back down to what I find as a rude awakening .  Some will find it odd that with all I have been through I still have the will to be so optimistic on a world that's shown me, the crooked and exposed me to some of mankind's ugliest ways. There aren't very many people who fearlessly  dream, tirelessly believe, or know how to balance transparency. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Belong to me because you want too. Wear my love like armor every where you go.  Choose me because its frees you, don't break my heart because it will always be yours. Be