It has been a while since I had posted something I’ve written, and I really wanted to. The Whiskey Words is still going on. Tomorrow is the last date to submit, though. Enjoy!


I’ve been asked
time and time again,
How can a person be your home?
Now, how do I explain this?

When I am with him,
I wear comfy pajamas and absolutely no make up.
I confine to the wall of his arms,
and cry with my face buried in his shoulder
like a kid holding a pillow to muffle his screams.
His dimples are the trampoline to my fingers.
Every time Lust and love,
his best-friends, and our guests
come over,
I dress up fancy and serve myself.
Honestly, I just sleep all day in his arms.
And even though I need no-one,
He protects me anyway.
He makes sure I walk on the right side of the street,
And that my hair is tucked behind my ear.
Home isn’t built in a day,
and neither were we.
Like wizards without their chosen wands,
And Ross without Rachel,
I am alright without him,
but completely empty inside.
If I was a goddamn house,
he would be my furniture.
Like a sailor on a quivering boat,
in a black night storm,
I miss him when he isn’t around.

What else do you get homesick for,
if not a home?
And I love him so much,
with all my heart.
Home is where the heart is.

So yeah, he is my home.
Two arms, wavy hair, brown eyes,
breathy voice and a musical heartbeat.


I’ve written an erotica and published it on Wattpad (you can read it even if you don’t have an account). Do read and respond by leaving comments here or on wattpad. Go there by clicking : here.

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