Feb 10
Talia's picture

Away from Reality

Home.

My home isn’t just my house.

It’s where that tang of comfort and familiarity is.

It’s where my friends are– 

my chosen family. 

It’s where I walk in with a relieved smile. 

It’s a shared space,

but every inch feels like my own.

It’s where I can retreat to after dipping my toes into the world.

A safe place that still pushes me to my limits. 

My home is a building with three rooms

that make all the difference in the world.

They’re lined with mirrors and posters–

each disturbed by tiny fingerprints. 

They all have floors under layers and layers of black dust.

The black dust gets embedded in my tights as I brush my foot up my leg.

The mirrors correct me as harshly as I let them. 

My home is a place where I spend a short ten hours a week.

The more time I spend there, 

the more I long to stay. 

I always just wish I could spend one more moment there,

before I have to go back to reality.