by now,
someone must have told you
that love is not a person
and they were right
love is many people
as many people as you can fit in your heart,
actually.
love is every person you’ve smiled at,
even the ones that didn’t smile back.
especially those ones.
love is each lingering glance, each fingertip graze, each held open door, each half muttered “thanks”
love is the moment you start recognizing someone’s face as you move from strangers to more
love is when i get you coffee on my way back.
by now,
someone must have told you
that home is not a person
and they were right
home is anything that made you feel safe
your local haunt, your favorite library
your booth at the cafe
your grandma’s dinner table, or
your third grade math class
home is your lover pulling you close, deep in slumber, holding you for the sake of pure comfort
home is your second language.
home is the way she crinkles her nose after your jokes
and his quiet, nervous laughter
home is when you get me coffee on your way back.
~mj