Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
If home is where the heart is, I must have lost mine among my luggage. I'm getting used to a city 30 minutes from my first home. It is as if I am living in a mansion with nothing on display. The walls are bare. The walls are where? You are my metaphorical bed; you keep me safe and warm. The physical bed smells like your skin, so I never want to get out of it. The rest of the house has no evidence of you. I am familiar with sleep, and *** and snoring. Beyond the bed is new territory that I am still figuring out. Be patient with me.
0
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
Homesick
If home is where the heart is, I must have lost mine among my luggage. I'm getting used to a city 30 minutes from my first home. It is as if I am living in a mansion with nothing on display. The walls are bare. The walls are where? You are my metaphorical bed; you keep me safe and warm. The physical bed smells like your skin, so I never want to get out of it. The rest of the house has no evidence of you. I am familiar with sleep, and *** and snoring. Beyond the bed is new territory that I am still figuring out. Be patient with me.
cassidy-chambers
Written by
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem