"It’s the long brown hairs left in my bathroom shower. And the five bobby pins left on the living room floor. It’s the floral scent of her body on my bed sheets. The cup of tea she always forgets to drink. It’s my socks and hoodies she steals from my closet and my unfolded blankets always left on the sofa. It’s these little things that make my home, a home. I’m surrounded by these four walls but they are not what I call home. Home is when she sleeps on the left side of the bed. And home is when she cooks in the kitchen and makes the apartment smell of herbs and spices. Home is baking cookies at midnight because we’re high and hungry. Home is her falling asleep in my arms while watching a movie. Home is not these four walls; home is having her put her makeup on in front of the mirror and her running into my arms as soon as we get home. Home is shared blankets and falling off the bed because somehow her little body claims 75% of the bed. Home is dinners at the kitchen table and kisses in steamy showers. Home is the love that she burns through my veins. It’s the little things like the shirts and sweaters she leaves behind. Home is moving in with no furniture and eating Chinese food on the living room floor, the very first night. It’s wrestling matches followed by “I love you.” My home is not built by these four walls; my home has beautiful brown eyes, a voice of an angel, kisses made from heaven, two hands perfect for me, and a heartbeat that dances with mine."
(via lykereally)
This is actually the cutest thing I’ve ever read
(via strictlysouthernn)
(via lesswhine-morewine)
