6.5.16

home

i've always been mesmerized by the concept
that sometimes a home
isn't always in the form of
closed doors and four sides of walls;

sometimes a home
isn't always in the form of
empty rooms and echoing goodbyes;

sometimes,
a home is a person;

and for me,
that person is you.

there's no place like home,
there's no place like you.

2.5.16

fate

i was a mere withering grass,
you were a morning dew.

you succumbed to the power of gravity,
i let the wind blew me away—
we crossed path.

i was a palpitating mess
with faint pulses beneath my skin;

and so were you,
i found out.

we still are.