I sit down in my bedroom and I think how I wish these walls would become your arms.
For the ceiling to be your beautiful fluffy hair and your heart to be our bed.
I have this continuous nostalgic feeling of wanting to go home. But as soon as I arrive in my apartment, the little me finds me in the kitchen, staring blankly while holding her comfort tiny blanket.
She asks me to take her home and although I know what she means I still ask her where does she leave.
And she answers me with feelings, she answers me with memories, because, she says, that’s where her heart belongs to, that’s where her real home is.
Mar 19
Mar 19, 2026 at 8:09 AM UTC
I sit down in my bedroom and I think how I wish these walls would become your arms.
For the ceiling to be your beautiful fluffy hair and your heart to be our bed.
I have this continuous nostalgic feeling of wanting to go home. But as soon as I arrive in my apartment, the little me finds me in the kitchen, staring blankly while holding her comfort tiny blanket.
She asks me to take her home and although I know what she means I still ask her where does she leave.
And she answers me with feelings, she answers me with memories, because, she says, that’s where her heart belongs to, that’s where her real home is.
