I don't live here
Or even close by.
I'd tell you where I live
but I wouldn't want to lie;
you won't like it a bit.
I live in the casted shadows
of trees sprouting life.
Hiding away from
the unbearable ray of light,
that you call,
Hope.
I float as disguised dust
in the air that doesn't get a chance in the sunlight.
I live in ordinary coincidences
and sunken tears on pillow cases.
I'm in the coffee stains,
the discouraging rains
and naive romances.
I live in the kind people with tragic endings,
the whispers on nostalgic lanes
and lonesome dances.
Now, I've told you where I live,
in the realities of the miracles you live by
and in all honesty, it doesn't feel like home.
I wouldn't want to lie.