Poetry

Bones and Home

Credit: https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSol2JNeiIsYm_rBnTpq8bFifOEltAHk_USHPf0yiOnY4aMKLBBFTmGjMjX6g

Oftentimes I’ve found myself looking for home in other people, people who are so immersed in everything else that they have nothing to give me. So, I’ve realized that my only true shelter will only be me, I’ll reside only in myself; I’ve stopped demanding a home from others.

My bones are home,

to the flesh that grows around them.

My bones are home,

to every part of my body that they cage.

My bones are home,

to my skin,

that wraps around itself.

My bones are home,

to every piece of me.

My bones are home,

for they shelter my soul.

My bones are ancient structures

of myself.

My bones are home for they’ve cracked to let me breath.

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