Poems

Home.

Home.
by: Clara Cecilia Cordero

What's home, but the empty walls of a protective shelf that we carry around but leave in a place. But trust or love. Home is warmth but warmth does not imply inside these walls. Walls made of concrete or porcelain. Walls of sorrow and walls meant to be broken. Home is a place where I hide all I am and still carry it around. Home is love I have and love I wish. Love that broke inside of me. Home is family but family it ain't home. Home is a couch to sit and lay but a couch is not a place to stay. Stay alone or stay by you. Home is a place I live, home is a state of dreams. Home is a shelf of empty rooms in empty spaces inside the walls of my inner core.