This Is Home
Shining home of stars, you all feel like extensions of my own body now, brilliant rainbow stained-glass reflecting the joy of our world back to me in infinite new iridescent ways.
Your voices are a constant quiet lovely background chatter across my every day. My direct messages stay largely barren; we call out to each other like kids on the schoolyard for everyone to hear and we share in the chaos.
My world feels warm. I take my lonely cold feet to sunbeam-kissed hardwood and feel gentle echoes of cosmic heat melt into my skin. Everywhere I am home with you in my little universe.
But the more time passes the more I’m aware of it. The way that this shining world is not endless but contained. That I cannot stay. That I inch closer to leaving every micromillisecond that passes.
I look at the ways you’ve patched me up and I wonder how quickly my scars will unravel like a malnourished sailor’s when you are no longer there beside me to strengthen the stitches.
I know all I’m supposed to do is enjoy these last moments with you as much as I can but it seems all I can do is mourn. I grieve your loss while you are right in front of me. I am so scared of how it will feel when you are gone that I can barely feel your presence in the now.
What will I do when you’re no longer right beside me?
