my house is vast and filled with prayers i’ve made room for you atop the stairs the shelves are filled with things you need the light’s left on so you can see. if i am asleep and you need to talk or you stumble in and can barely walk or you reach the door with little left from life and loss and pain and theft; others are here with hands to hold offering warmth to shake off the cold, suspecting that you might need to be told- you belong.
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