home
/həʊm/


noun 
the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.

the feeling of sadness that overcomes me every now and then is what i feel the most associated with. it gives me the fulfillment that no other feeling can offer. sitting on the floor with tears continuously falling down my cheeks. and i turn to the mirror and there i am. back to 2016, or 2012 with the same flushed face and watery eyes. the same thoughts running through my head. this is the feeling of home

You make me question the what ifs. What if i told you how i feel? What if we had a straight forward conversation instead of tip toeing around topics? When i think about what to say to you only the clichés come to mind like “i hate you because you make me feel this way”.

I have never felt this way about anyone and i dont know if im making this all up in my head but i know im not because i know you and ive talked to you enough. Its not the same as before because im not making a version of you in my head just to get disappointed. The version in my head of you is who you are. I think you’re better than me in so many ways. I finally understand what they felt about me and that it was real for them because i feel that way about you. Tell me you do too? You make me question so much, its unfair.

I go back to when our hands touched thrice. Do you think about that ever?

have you ever believed
in something so blindly
so genuinely
that the moment you realize
it isn't true, something inside you
changes forever?
i wanna tell you a story, see
seldom do i ever
go swimming in drinks
deep enough to drown in
but when i do
i speak in tongues
about things that none
of my memories
are allowed to talk about
like that christmas
at the isthmus
where my girlfriend
plucked a conch shell
whiter than gods teeth
out of the sand
held it to her ear
and stopped time
that day she was a shade of blue
the could've made the ocean sick
see, she loved to play jokes
when she held
the sea shell to her ear
she gasped, called my name
and said "i want you to hear this"
i said "yeah, right, everybody knows it's just the same old sea"
she replied "no. not this one. this one is special. listen. theres music in this one"
she handed me the shell
like a promise she couldn't keep
and i held it to my ear
with all the potential
of seeing shore
after being stranded
at sea for years
only to hear
a tired dirge of silence
spill from its emptiness
i guess she didn't know
how desperately
i wanted to hear it too
because ever since
something inside me snapped
now sand pours out
of every post card i open
i hear seagulls
in telephone static
sometimes i have dreams
where i bury my hands
in every beach
i've ever been on
and exhume this graveyard of noise
every time i try to sleep
i spit up fishhooks
and i guess i'm obsessed
but maybe
if i hold my ear
to enough vacant things
then i could have back
the time stolen from me
since it happened
maybe they would get it
if they knew what i wanted
when i blow out birthday candles
maybe they'll find me
face down in a wishing well
i watch eternal sunshine
of the spotless mind every day
pretending i can forget too
because this sea sickness
has followed me for years
because yesterday
i walked into a music shop
and all the pianos broke
but the only thing
i can think to say is
*do you know how bad
a memory has to be
that you fantasize
about forgetting it?

the moon burns brighter
glaring at me
shying away on your name

while I shamelessly
hide in my misery
of your poisoned
pillow talks  

but

                                                               ­                           the moon sees it all
                                                             ­                           even under my skin
                                                                ­                     even over my pretend
                                                         ­                                     truly wondering
                                                                ­                               how I am doing

the next time your mind goes on wondering about it again, remember this. every love story has ended in tragedy whether it be death, war, or sickness and i will consciously never let that happen to us even if it means i dont tell you how i feel and you wonder why you deserve this hell