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Ciel Feb 1
I am sitting in the same bedroom I have had for the past 16 years,
staring at the same ceiling with glow in the dark stars plastered on it,
playing with the same **** blanket my grandma gave me 7 years ago,
and hearing the same train whistles that used to drive me crazy.
Nothing around me has changed,
and yet I am homesick.
I am homesick not for a place,
but for a person.
I am homesick for the person I used to be,
or maybe for the person I will soon be.
Sidney Chelle Jan 29
today is almost offensively mild.

the bathroom is sunny and marbled. tiny rivulets run over my hands. the faucet's water isn't cold, and i'm still not used to that.

once dried, i adjust my hair and face in the mirror, fingers brushing against my eyebrows, cheeks.

suddenly, it all comes together, twist-tie threads into one large knot, and my head snaps back. i am not a high school student anymore.

how can this be? i am loose and fluid-looking. when did that spring unwind?

(you know the one. the one in your spine, taut and uncomfortable. you can feel it the most during junior year nights that are not quite stressful enough to remember.)

suddenly the flight and the big boxes and the absence of parents is not just a fun little aside it is loud and bright and i am alone in california and the maturity of it hurts to look at-

inhaleinhaleinhaleinhale 3,000 miles and i am alone in this room oh god oh christ-

i try smiling. it is like that pamphlet on a table in an admissions office. it is like projecting when you speak and projects worth 30% of my grade, fluency and professionalism and pounding bass. oh ****, dorothy, we sure aren't in kansas anymore.

no more electric scents before a summer storm. no more nose-nipping winds. even the gray days look like cousins of those in boston, not twins.

no more chickadees.

how do i tell everyone that the air smells different here?
just typed this one out a little. very open to feedback, it's more a collection of ideas than anything.
Sophia Li Jan 28
where is your heart
            where is your home
                        where is your love
I am winter
I am snow blankets shattered by rain evolving to deadly ice
Long, rolling landscapes and barren trees
No room for imagination.
I am winter
I am solemn, solitary, singular
Frigid gusts of heartbreak
Homesick in animal tracks.
I am winter
I am lifeless, lonely, lingering
Roaring flames and layers upon layers
Warm enough though frozen stiff.
I am winter
I have no end and no beginning
The same old me, 1500 miles wiser
Losing all seamless direction
Wishing for any connection
Amazed at the lack of distinction
between this me and that me.
Uka Jan 24
In light their feet
always comes against morning
They rise
having bed peacefully
though only nearing evening
She will spin hope with dance
His shape believes exuberant sleep
is his favorite
Charm sizzles all the room
smoother than polished
gloss paint
Enjoying the fresh warm drink
with good music
They laugh broad
aware of delicate pride
Like the world
it can be
gwenyvere Jan 19
my poor shadow
she holds on so
tightly to home
she can't let go
i was inspired by a painting of a man leaving home, but his shadow clinged to his house. as someone who is leaving home soon, i feel that very deeply.
Rose Jan 7
You’ve been there for the mistakes
     And the bad dates
          Through the heart aches
               And shallow souls
                    From the homesick fights
                         To those drunk nights
            I looked to you
            And found
Endless jokes when we spit up our cokes
Joyful nights when we worked away the fear
Cold walks where we talked till the end of the world
I told you everything between my ribs and heart
            I hope we will hold strong
            But if we slip from each others grasps
                        I just ask you
To remember
CL Fjell Jan 5
Take me to the towers,
Made of dirt and stone.
I want to stand on their peak,
See where all light shone.

Feel as free as can be,
Like a bird through blue sky.
Except I'm trapped on the ground,
So I climb so very, very high.

My need for the mountain air,
Is like a water to fish gills;
I can't breathe without it.
I want to lie on its tall hills.

Take in the stars:
The endless sea in the sky.
No cars, no lights, no noises.
With no reaching mounds I'd rather die.

Alas, my life has brought me here,
To the sound of sleepless streets;
And the highest place I reach
Is in my loft bed sheets.

Toxic air fills my lungs,
City lights drown northern star.
I grow sad for now it seems,
The mountains are so very, very far.
I miss my home
gabrielle Jan 3
homesick for the home
that never been mine

homesick for the home
that never existed

missing you
that never been mine

you exist
but you were still not mine

you are my house i go back to
but never my home

you exist
but never was my home
" I am missing someone whom I love. I have loved someone who is my home, whereas, this home never existed. And my home that never existed, was never really mine. "

(i really have problems with repetitions)
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