Home Is A Person

If I wrote often,

every piece would be about you.

Every line telling the story of your face with the light hitting you just right.

Every song about your sparkling eyes.

Every story about how it feels to lay in your arms in the crisp, hot summer air.

And every ballad trying to find a way to describe the feeling you give me;

Of safety.

Of home.

Of a love I’ve never felt till now.

Because you are the place I choose to always be at.

You are the first thing I want to see every beautiful morning.

You are the last thing I want to look at before my head hits my pillow. 
You are

my everything.