I’ll have a coffee machine, pastel pink queen-sized bed, furry pillows and overflowing lavender scents. I’ll have a TV I’ll never use, wear my onsie and work on my cold marble floor. Fairy lights and a pup.
My hello kitty chain hooked on my car and apartment keys. I’ll always have coconut yogurt and granola. Or, on free days, make what my healthy heart desires! I’ll go home with my body empty from fear. I’ll sleep with no knife under my pillow. No more nightmares, no more silent heaves. No more anything from those childhood thieves.
I’ll have baby pink colored walls, filled with paintings of mine or of others. It’ll replace the withered piss painted ones. I’ll be brave enough to call this house a home.