home

You let the handle go as it

slips the frame into place.

Your hands are cold,

outside-cold.

The girl in bed looks peaceful

yet you can see the war

raging in her head.

You close the distance between your bodies;

touch her cheek;

wake her softly;

her eyes flutter. You think – beautiful.

She smiles,

nestles into your hand.

She opens the comfort of her bed so it allows for two.

You smile, small, and slip off your shoes.

You fit yourself beside her.

You are not sure if the warmth you feel is from her or for her.

You touch her cheek again,

let your thumb dip to her lips.

Your eyes watch hers.

Vulnerable. Craving.

Content.

She closes her eyes as her body sighs into yours.

There is no tension, no fear.

Nothing but you.

Your hand slides to her hip, and you pull her in close.

Her head finds a crook in your neck.

A home.

The smile on her face radiates through her body.

You feel it there.

You pull her body to yours, instinct.

There is no one else.

White sheets and white thoughts and white feelings.

You think: this is it.

You think: this is home.

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