home

I built this home a few years ago, 

amidst a broken heart and wisteria. 

Paintings I could never paint and gardens I could never grow, 

are woven through these walls. 

In this eternal monsoon, the wind breathes my breath. 

On quiet afternoons, the dandelions shiver into the air 

the dusk sunshine fades into the dirt, 

where the graveyard lays. 

In this home, I stay, 

none compares to its immortality, 

its perpetual solace, 

its love, that I take. 

For years I have reveled, 

in grief and ecstacy

 in ambition and defeat; 

in this home, I built, 

I have reveled in its existence. 

But today, I'm lost, in this very place. 

Under starry glass ceilings, 

I long for you. 

I sleep under the crescent sky 

waiting for your return, 

My heart beats outside my life 

pining for your presence. 

The aurorae I've sown into the night 

will not dance without your song, 

The river I created in sorrow 

will not run into my arms 

The home I made in angst 

will not comfort in your absence. 

I ponder this home, 

endless in its creation, 

As those ponds of green and endless blue drown in themselves. 

Inside a breathtaking library, 

I read to my heart away from me. 

As the thunder breaks my evenings, the refuge of 

the softest melodies 

the quietest oceans 

the deepest skies, 

couldn't compare to those eyes borne of tempests. 

Heartsick in what I pretend to be unrequited love, 

I ache for your time 

like the moon craves the sea. 

Making songs I've heard before you all yours, 

I run in this infinite wilderness 

hunting down these memories of you. 

I never knew 

that I could get homesick 

living here without you. 

I never knew, 

that my home could lose all meaning 

and just become you.