Hiraeth

Heavy, the feeling that burrows itself in the pit of my stomach.

It’s an ache that desires a concept I’m not sure I’ve ever grasped.

Right now, there is a house, containing a room with my few possessions.

All I’ve ever known, unsafe, too much sound.

Empty corners filled with dust, my brain missing a warm smile and an unworried walk to the door.

There is a place I am supposed to know. I am

Homesick for a home that never was. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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