When I was little all I wanted to do was fly
Like angels in the bible
Or like Peter Pan
With a little bit of faith, trust
And lots of pixie dust

When I was a bit older
I dreamed of being like a bird
While looking out of the classroom window
Not wanting to return home
I could spread my wings and protect myself
And fly
Just fly

One day I tried to fly
When I launched myself off my balcony
But gravity pulled me down and red liquid blossomed from my knee
While tears stained my cheeks
"What were you doing?" My mom yelled
I hiccuped through my crying
"I just wanted to fly."

I am standing on the edge
150 feet up in the air
I try not to think of it as falling
I imagine myself finally flying
And feeling the wind rush across my face and leave me flushed
I spread my arms and imagine wings
And let go
All to fly

My mother is one of those people
Who buys stupid things with trivial cliches on them
Needlepoint pillows with overused sayings
And there is a wooden sign hanging from the wall
She probably wasted at least 15 dollars on it
I pass by it every day
But only recently have I started thinking about it
It says,
"Home is the starting place of love and dreams."
Which I find ironic
Since this house that I live in is not a home
Which I realize is a cliche in itself
But it's true
This house comes with memories engrained
Of my mother yelling and screaming
Of me purging and crying
So where is my home?
Where is my "starting place of love and dreams?"
I've made a home in you
I want to memorize all of you
Count every single freckle on your face
And curl up beside you and leave my memories in your brain
Your arms wrapped around me is when I'm home
Your smile is my home,
Your laugh,
Your kindness,
Telling me the things my mother never meant
May be that's why even when I'm in my house
And we're not together
I can't stop thinking about my home