Home

Do you ever get this feeling,

At the bridges of those huge train stations?

Where there are intersections?


No,  not that of leaving permanently

for an out-bound train


Even if you're going with people

Who you've called home all your life

There's  a queasy feeling

Like you've left home behind.


Does it hit you?

Do the people on the huge platform crossing by

give you the impression that they are

bodiless souls or soulless bodies

Flitting away into nothingness

And exchanging voids?


Maybe only I get this feeling

Maybe it is because people who I've called home

Left me

I know I shouldn't have.


Because homes are something

you're comfortable in.

You don't go house hunting.

Home beckons you.


You can't go to a house, find potential

and then wait for it to be your home, or wait,

do you?


I called this someone home,

Too soon I guess.

Something like a week and a half into knowing him. Or

A month and half, I dont know.

Was it actually a year and half?

Anyway, what's important is that it remained just that half.


But what we should learn,

Is to live, nevertheless.


You know the funny thing?

I'd once read this quote that went something like:

It's okay to make homes out of people if.

And I lost the quote.

Now, tell me, how am I supposed to make a

home if I can't remember a quote?


I've tried, you know

I think I've tried it all.

Finding the quote,

Leaving the home be.


But it hasn't worked so far for me.

All that poetic bullshit they say?


"My darkness and his darkness are friends."

I'm going to wait it out and see if it's true.


I'm going to wait for home to come to me.

Homes, old and new. 

If you need a heart to break, take mine.

Don't do it for your sake, do it for mine.

If you just need another chemical to balance the equation,

Control the reaction,

Why the hesitation?

If, to heal, it takes blood and meat to feed on, take mine.

It it takes all of me, to repair just a part of you, be mine. 

Let's talk about the books of yore.

The sea and the shore.

Coffee beans.

Sand grains.

Songs.

Stories that never end.

Sparkling conversations.

Cackling laughter.

Genuine chemistry.

Intimacy.

Book covers.

Past lovers.

Feel good fuzz.

The daily buzz.

Soft toys.

Your favourite car.

Your first memory.

And then, me.

You.

And the stars in your eyes.

How beautifully you behold the sky.

At dusk. And dawn.

Twilight.

Which shines bright.

The reflections they make.

A bokeh on your face.

The simply satisfying smile.

Which is achieved through pasta, bread and wine.

Cheese.

Cake.

Soup.

Breaks.

Coffee mugs.

Tired hugs.

Let the conversation run through its path.

Let the jokes carry on as unasked.

I wish these talks never end.

Ways we have to never mend.

Destiny may take its turns, agreed.

But let's continue to meet, shall we?