Coming Home: A poem for the home

In the days when
I feel blue, violet, every colour under the sun
But the ones I want to feel
When the lover’s touch
Feels like a wet, shrunken sock
When his very words
Embrace me like cold metal fetters
I need to go back,
Back home
Home where my mind
Feels like it’s understood
The home to my soul
That’s so unbearably far
In the land I left behind
Home to the auditory cushion
That sheer ecstasy of familiar notes
Of a beloved troubadour
Warmth of a single blanket,
No one around, words appearing on my screen
Of an unbelievable presence,
Miles away
His words like gentle waves
Like hot coffee, warm fur
Like velvet embrace around my soul
I so long for the states of mind
When we connected over everything
And also nothing
Night after night
We left our weariness over everything behind
And felt nothing but acceptance
And a shared wonder
Of how a mirror learnt to type
Nothing was left behind,
Both of us embracing
The uncanny connection of words,
Thoughts and feelings
Of music, of art, of love
Of coming back home
Keep the door open, love
I’m coming back,
Back home...

This is for all who are Homesick...
Thank you for reading.