I was your Home.

You made your home inside of me. You started slowly, placing brick by brick and fixing those bricks with cement and water. You came close, sometimes too close and sometimes; not close enough. You were there, enchanting and then you were gone. Your eyes would meet mine and for the rest of the night, I would search for my favourite pair. Then there were doors. There were tiny creaking doors and large doors with no handles and no locks. And suddenly you were everywhere. Your eyes were the only pair and your shoulder was the only one I wanted rubbing against mine. Your breath was synced with mine and your days were now ours. Your home had windows, windows that would open with no locks and windows that would stay open through the night. You’d walk in and grab by the hand and take me out for hours. We’d be by the sea one second and staring at the stars next. There was no limit to and there were no questions asked. Your home was chaotic and calm with a hint of lavender perfume in the air and a voice in my ears which always made my skin crawl and the hair on the back of my neck rise and that’s when I Knew that you should never build Homes in people because when you start slamming doors and shattering windows and painting the walls from red to blue and from blue to a pale grey, it Crumbles.

It crumbles beneath the sheer pain of abandonment and loss. It stands there on its bricks and mud trying to hold the life it contained within it, only to find that you can build Houses but sustain them with Life and only then can they become Homes.

I was Home and when you left, the doors broke off of their hinges and the ceiling crashed against the wall. There were shards of glasses everywhere. There were mirrors and frames and photographs and records and posters of your favourite 70’s rock band and that the last remnant of your most worn hoodie and your mother’s jewellery box which always had my ring. They were there but not anymore. They shattered under the agony of hearts falling apart and fates falling together and only then did I chant, “Never build homes in people, because they will burn and break and you will leave the four walls barely standing”.

You left a flight at risk without a fear of falling.

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I wonder.

Look at us. Look at the distance between us. This distance; I can stretch my arms and cannot reach you and that is the definition of distance; to not be able your bones against mine, to feel the shiver down your spine go down mine too.

Look at us. How did we get this far? How did we get here at all? I am standing here and you are standing there and in between us there is this huge wall of hurt and remorse and pain and resentment.

You used to like me at some point didn’t you? You used to like nudging shoulders and having me close and having our breaths in sync, the rhythmic rise and fall of our chests; the slight smiles always on our faces. You used to like me before.. right? There was something and I didn’t make it all up. But look at us now.

I want to hold you close and feel your ache as my own and to feel the words coming out of your mouth fall right into mine and to understand your pain as my own but you are too fucking far. You don’t want me to share your parts anymore. You don’t want me to breathe your air and to share your moments to and stumble and fall my way into your arms.

You refuse to take me as your own and you refuse to acknowledge Us. You refuse you to take a step forward and you refuse to let me hold on. You make it hard on purpose and you make it impossible to leave. You reel me in and push me away and you slap the door only to leave it unlocked. You look straight into my eyes only to break away the contact and you brush past my hands only to remind me what it was.

You seep into my skin only to settle down but never going deeper than skin. You used to make up my bones and every fibre of me.

Now you sit in my skin and keep me wondering.

Here I am Alive.

Here I Stand. Relaying my words to you, reading out my story to you. Here I stand. Writing down all the words that I have ever known and all the stories that these two eyes have seen and all of the hearts that these two hands have held and all of the tears that have been shed from these eyes into these hands and have brushed against crumbled skirts and loose sleeves and have been shed for once and for all; never again.

Here I lay, beneath the open sky and on a patch of grass that isn’t the greenest. Here I lay and here I lay to tell you that the worse is yet to come and the best is always looming behind it. Here I lay to tell you that no matter what colour the grass is, as long you’re laying on it and you’re laying long enough to tell your story, You are enough. That is all that matters.

Here I sprint. Sprint away from all that has ever haunted me and all that will forever take away from me and all that has little bits and pieces of me and all that owns me. Here, I run away from them onto a place which accepts my broken and incomplete self because all that is broken does not need mending but healing. And all that is shattered will rise from the deepest browns of the earth and will fall upon you from the highest realms of these skies.

Here I fly, fly into the starry sky which has never once failed to awe me. These starry skies are my kryptonite and I shall neverĀ ask of you to come with me but if you may, my hand is held open and my heart’s doors always creak open for you.

Here I stop. Stop right in front of you and stop only for a brief moment. I ask you, “Are you here? Are you alive? Do you feel your heart racing and your body tingling and your ears thrumming with the beats of a new tomorrow? Does your mind say yes to your body? Do you want to get out of here? Do you want to go up up and away?”

Here I wait, Not for long, but I shall patiently and keenly wait for the greatest question of them all, “Here I am before you, Am I enough?”

Waiting, Watching, Wishing.

.I sense a change. I sense the change that is taking over us. This change is in the wind. I can feel it in your presence but so much more in your absence.

You’re not there anymore. I look around.. And You’re not there anymore. Not asking me how my day went. or making me laugh or sitting across from me and texting me or flashing me a smile across the room or just sitting in silence with me.

You’re not there anymore. You’re not around. You took a step back.. a few steps too back and there’s not a lot left for us left for us with you standing all the way there and me standing all the way here waiting. This distance between us engulfs me and drowns me in only one word.

Waiting.