Home is not the physical structure
that I spend my soulless nights in,
where tears are my sanctuary,
where the salty water trickles down my face when I sleep
like a lullaby that soothes and calms me to a mysterious new place
I lay awake in bed
all these sleepless nights, sending me to paranoia
while "what ifs" do re-runs in my mind
...we...
were my home
I found the courage to trust you,
put faith in you, told you all my
deepest inner demons' secrets
I fell apart on you when I wasn't having a good day
and I was happiest when I was home with you
Just talking to you is not the same
we used to talk about life, death, dreams
and hopes, hopes for our future, but now we just fill up emptiness
with meaningless words, when we get the chance,
we used to communicate in silence, just making the slightest movement in our facial expression,
...remember when we sat in beautiful, peaceful silence?...
> em-bers
YOU ARE READING
Sad poetry for the aching heart
PoetrySome what poetry that expresses my emotions into words. Using paper as my canvas and my words as paint, led or ink.
