I've always told myself
that I'd never let loving someone
be more important than my dreams,
then I started to dream of you
and that complicated things.
I started breaking at the knees,
became threadbare at the seams
you know I used to believe
that sometimes skin needs scars
to hold it together when it
starts to pull apart,
my heart, my mind
on the edge of my body
asking you what you call home,
I am a person without a home
but with somewhere to sleep,
and you to love and that's good I think,
I want to take you to every place
I've read about in books
so I can say that I've been in love with you
everywhere that someone calls home
because home is a beautiful concept
and you are a beautiful human being
and that fucking scares me, but I like it,
most days I really do, and when it's not terrifying
I think that's beautiful, too.
I won't ask you to make home,
but I'd love to see you be home-
I can't even imagine how beautiful that must be.