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Dear thief of joy,

You were my home

A scared place I felt safe in.

Your breathe was comfort at 3am 

when I didn't feel like myself,

and time wasn't a problem because you were always around.

I lost myself in your home.

Your love was poisoned glass rubbing on my skin

Free at last from the comfort of something unreal I flourished. 

If you can only see the way you left me,

so broken yet so put together.

I am my home now.