I was homesick

Sunday, September 19

By Lisa Porter

I'm homesick for a place that was never my home

homesick for a place that was never my own

Perhaps I had dreamed it this place I envied

or perhaps I had heard about it in a passing song

or a book or a poem

maybe I had glanced at it in a map I had roamed

I was homesick for people I had never met

homesick for the shelf where my travelling bag had set

it hadn't been used in a while

a month or a year

probably wouldn't be used again until the next snowfall was near

I was homesick for the hands I never held

homesick for the truths you withheld 

like the one about love and lust and tears

and especially the one about the monsters you feared

I was homesick for the warm spot on the bed next to you

homesick for my daily routine that you knew

like how I had to watch the sun rise every Sunday

along with two cups of coffee and two chapters of my book

and how I had to meditate up the stairs in that nook

I was homesick for a life long gone

homesick for the missing words to that song

the one we sang all night drunk and happy

where we kissed eachothers cheeks and pretended to be sappy

See I guess home can be a place or a thing

it can be a hug or a smile

or a special ring

It can be pearls and diamonds

 a blanket or bed

it can be drunken promises that your husky voice said

I guess I'm homesick for everything that was left in the past

everything that will be remembered

all the things that happened fast

I guess I am homesick for the girl who is free

the girl who smiles bright 

the girl I wanted to be

I guess what I'm homesick for




is me



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