Home

A lover I once had

was like a stone.

Constantly cold

and forever unamused,

they seemed an

unlikely candidate,

but despite all of this,

they made me feel at home.

Soon, the cold was overwhelming,

and the darkness never left.

That home I once had

became a house.

 

When that home burned,

a new one grew from its ashes

like a phoenix.

This one was stronger.

The light stayed on longer

but batteries die, and

electricity bills were forgotten,

and just like before,

the darkness came and never left.

Just like before,

the home I once had

became a house.

 

A new one came in an unexpected way.

Despite being a bit of a fixer-upper,

the potential thrived.

It took time to fall in love with the house,

but you learn that flaws are meant to be loved.

The warmth never left,

and the darkness never came.

The house someone once had

became a home.

My home.

This poem is about: 
Me

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