some nights i sleep in the guest room.
i like to pretend that i am a guest,
that this home is not my home.
i like to pretend my body isn't mine
and that the room next to this one doesn't belong to me.
i find comfort within these cold sheets, for they provide a home that is nobody's home.
some nights i sleep in the guest room.
just those nights, i am not me.
i am just a guest.
YOU ARE READING
restless: a poetry collection
Poesíathe thing about waiting for the rain to stop is that you don't know that it will. you could wait and wait and it could just rain and rain. sometimes, if you wait long enough, the rain will stop and the sun will shine. but sometimes the drizzle turns...
