Home

She always wanted to call this place home;

where the lavender hues would sublime on her hair;

and the smiles and laughter would be echoed. 

where the existence wouldn't be a moment unknown; but

a stab to last. 

Something calm, where silences would be acknowledged as a language of love. 

Something accepting that wouldn't have to be explained to be heard. 

Something that wouldn't require her to move in search of a promise. 

Where the frightening part wouldn't be staying; 

but giving up;

to wake up to mornings without ponderation. 

How do people forgive themselves for not embracing love that knocks on their door? 

For not feeling what they can and are capable of?