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BuriedInMoments
23/F
Poems2
Followers1
Words49
My homeland smells like freshly pressed olive oil, like sweet fig jam, like warm bread. My homeland smells like salty seas, like endless deserts, like ancient trees. My homeland— the place my soul resides, my memories. Mine.
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Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 8:06 PM UTC
BuriedInMoments
My Homeland
My homeland smells like freshly pressed olive oil, like sweet fig jam, like warm bread. My homeland smells like salty seas, like endless deserts, like ancient trees. My homeland— the place my soul resides, my memories. Mine.
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12
And with you gone, I was afraid I’d forget you. But I was wrong. I see you in everything— in every wave that comes ashore to greet me, in every song the birds sing outside my window. Even at night, I find you between the stars. And I wish I could leave the earth just to visit you. But I can’t— so I lie on the cold stones, look up at the sky, and envy the stars. Oh, how lucky they are to be in your presence.
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May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 9:05 AM UTC
BuriedInMoments
Gone
And with you gone, I was afraid I’d forget you. But I was wrong. I see you in everything— in every wave that comes ashore to greet me, in every song the birds sing outside my window. Even at night, I find you between the stars. And I wish I could leave the earth just to visit you. But I can’t— so I lie on the cold stones, look up at the sky, and envy the stars. Oh, how lucky they are to be in your presence.
Continue reading...
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