My home has a smile that makes angels turn in awe
Where is home?
Last night I couldn’t sleep. I spent the time with the moon tracing your face on my phone screen, wishing you were here. These nights are eulogies to a cellar filled with bottled emotions. A distillery no one will ever drink from again because when you left, you took the keys, and the lock is the only thing I have left of you. So forgive my hesitation; I’m sorry if I can’t let anyone in, even if it’s just for a sip.
I heard that you’re happy, and that’s okay. Hopefully, you got everything you wanted. I hope your space blossoms with the silence of a peaceful heart and your feet find rhythms in the new memories you make — the ones void of me. It wrecks me just a little, but that’s okay too. As long as you are where you want to be and the clouds aren’t dark above your head, I know the rest will fall into place for you.
I’d like to think, eventually, it ends with us. But I wonder if it’s in a week, a year, this lifetime, or an eternity or two.
So to answer the question above. My home has a smile that makes angels turn in awe, albeit all their divine; they’ve never seen something so pure. My home dances to music of which the lyrics are foreign, but it doesn’t matter as long as it sparks delight. It finds pleasure in simple things, like a new set of cups or a pencil case.
But it woke up one day, packed a bag, and left. With no postcard or clue of where it went, it left me with an empty shell of a house. My home left me with nothing but memories and a thick lump in my throat.
I blamed it on me, I blamed it on you, and the things we never said. Yesterday we were entangled in a web of love and drunk on lovers’ whispers, but today we are strangers. So what was it all for? Last night, I couldn’t sleep; you ran infinitely in my head.
I miss your hands in the pocket of my hoody.
Your smile bashes into me with no caution or warning sign making my heart erupt in euphoria. But like all memories, It hurts, and it’s hard to breathe sometimes.
