Home

She once thought his face
brought her home to sun
speckled shadows that
cooled her and white-hot
blazes that burned within.

One glance and her lungs
began drowning in moist
humidity, gasping for
the slightest whisp of breeze
coming off the Atlantic.

She looked away — her home
wasn’t just stifling heat and
scorching sunshine. It was
also diving into cerulean and
inhaling freshly cut emeralds.

Her home welcomed her,
his face turned her out.
Her home comforted her,
his face was vacant a
sign that read For Rent.

~Pamela