i

Google tells me I may have OCD because I often check to see if the door is locked. now, that’s just fucked. last night, I woke up, and I couldn’t remember if I bolted the front door. my heart thumped until I saw that it was locked, that I was safe. 

ii

home is where I am safe.

iii

I want to say that home is the arms of my lover. I mean, c’mon. that sweetness in my torso, as if someone poured honey inside me, when I bury myself in the haven of chest. but my girlfriend broke up with me recently, saying she can’t handle the distance.