Why do I find more comfort
In my friends small,
Neat apartment
On the other side of town,
Than I do in the very place that I live?
Why does his disorganized couch,
With the pillows flung everywhere,
Make me relax more
Than my own bed?
How sad is it that I find myself
More at ease when I'm everywhere
But at home?
No...not home.
Home is the place where you
Want to be.
This is just the place
Where I sleep and eat.
It's just a rest stop
Until something legitimate comes along.
YOU ARE READING
Late Night Feels
PoetryThose intense feelings that tangle their arms around your body and try to eat you alive, all wrapped up into this collection of poems. Enjoy.
