Home.

Sometimes sad is very big. It's everywhere.

All over me.

It wraps me up in its arms and sings to me.

it's twisted lullaby. Like a tortuous fantasy.

It whispers the romanticism of heartbreak and loneliness.

And I can't help but to cling to them.

I've heard these whispers for so long. 

It's starting to feel like home.

In a paradoxical way.

I've fallen in love with all of these empty spaces building up inside. All the tiny cracks, slowly expanding, letting the darkness seep through. I've fallen in love with my bruised and weak body, and how its collecting more scars by the day.

I've found this a safe place to be.

On the verge of tears.

With sobs lodged in your throat.

Lips quivering.

As well as the swollen lungs, inhaling this toxic society.

The anxiety of loss.

On the line of breathing the same air as the sunrise, or welcoming the numbness of death.

I've fallen in love with this.

It's almost as comforting as the arms that used to hold me when the world went crumbling down. The hollow feeling, is almost as soothing to my rapid heart rate, as your voice once was. Mumbling the sweet nothings in my ear. 

It has given me a feeling, that you once gave me. One that I thought I would never feel again. 

Home.

But this time, 

My home won't leave.