#homevshouse

When I am sitting alone in my house//there nothing//except for air going in and out//of my lungs//and that is my entire past//as a child i only knew empty air// and that nothing lasts//i grew up with people only saying what was wrong with me//and never ever what i could be//they never asked what i could see//so i thought my visions of a perfect world would be received//as wrong//and my daddy taught me how to run away//and to hide your reliances from your family//and my mother sure as hell didn't teach me to say i love you//so i always knew that i was different//because even when i was homesick//i wasn't missing the walls or floors or railings miles away//i was craving familiarity in a foreign place//and i always thought that a home could only be a house//and wondered what the hell went so wrong//for me to be placed in this disgrace//for it was not a home even in the slightest//it was a bed and a roof// and i had always thought that i was the only metaphorical//homeless person that i knew//but one day i ran into you//and you taught me to stand my ground//and to put a cork in the damn bottle of whiskey//you found me//and you taught me how to say i love you//and i realized that homes are usually houses//but sometimes there's an option two//if you are really really lucky//they can be people//real, real sunny//people//unique and special people//who have bodies etched from oil paints//and eyes made out of galaxies//who you want to just melt into//and i decided//that even if i lived on the streets//with him//from now on//i would always be at home//