My home; My love

Sometimes home isn't four walls and carpet or hardwood floors that stretch for miles. Sometimes the best kind of home have two sea blue eyes and a slow beating heart. Home has curly hair, and freckles all over. This kind of home has lots and lots of skin. Some patches are rough and scaley and don't hardly move in the sun. While other patches are soft and silky and glide over my skin with ease. The clean pink finger nails of home dig into the rough patches of me and make them soft. They tear open a world of love I never knew, and would never know again. My home has a name, that rolls off my tongue at 2am, when even the neighbors know his name too. My home knows no bounds, and never takes no for an answer.