Grey has returned. This is not what it used to be. This place...home? Creeping senses whisper familiar tales of adventure. Emotions pull back, wincing like an open sore. Surely, this place, this grey place is not home. Home is gone. Who am I if I am not home?
Strange. Latte planes feel like a strangers arm on the train. Is this home? Foreign objects clutter my vision. Was this home once? Alone and uneasy. This was never home.
My sense of smell is misguided. There is only one scent I pick up. And it is yours. But where are you if I am home?
Translucent grey becomes opaque and my vision of you fades. Familiar habits prove unsuccessful. I can't shake this feeling. I can't go back to this place, this grey place. I can't go back home.
A coat of yellow won't mask the grey. A coat of yellow won't mask the pain.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
I won't sip your champagne and pretend i like it.
Posts
1 comment:
lets make our own walls baby. The walls we live in do not define us nor do they confine us. We can be in different houses but in one home that rests in our hearts and never leaves it feeling empty.
Post a Comment