what does home feel like now?
does it still have the very same tiles
we used to run on?
how about the laughter?
the tons of laughter
you'd hear on the walls
of a house that looked like any house
but was different than any home
do you still feel
the cement sensation
of running your fingers
against a poorly drawn drawing,
how does it feel now?
how does it feel?
the house that once
held
a million things
that set up a kingdom
for a queen
and her knights
how does home feel now?
can i still have your loud music
thumping like
my heartbeat on hard day?
can i still hide?
in the crevices of our old sandbox
small words of confirmation
we'd pray during our darkest times,
is the couch still stained,
with tears of the last fight?
is the lights still out of power?
but still managing
to light a room filled with candles
how about the beer?
where are the corners
you've laid it on
is that still there?
because that's my home
i would go anywhere home is
where is my home?
it is gone like
the sand in that sandbox
it has died with the candles
it was painted white
and prettied up for the next renters
to cover up a fallen kingdom
so how is my home now?
how does it feel like to watch the war
shred it all into pieces
how does it feel
to live in the shards
of a broken mirror
what is it like
to still have the home
that i can never have again?
YOU ARE READING
the dawn of us
Poetrycover by duvetjae a series of written poems about love, trauma, and moving on. disclaimer: this books discusses many serious topics, read with caution.
