I wanted to go home,
Well I meant into your arms.
But now I realized I was homeless.
I had no place I belonged.
No hand or heart to own.
My home was you,
But now you're gone.
YOU ARE READING
She.
PoetryPoetry, scenes and short stories written from the fingertips of a girl who doesn't know her own heart. She's filled each corner with love and light that she thought was pure just to watch it rot off and fill like a gaping dark hole. But these heartb...
28. Foreclosure.
I wanted to go home,
Well I meant into your arms.
But now I realized I was homeless.
I had no place I belonged.
No hand or heart to own.
My home was you,
But now you're gone.
