I Miss my Old Home

The sun sets over my new home

And I’m struck with an uncomfortable sense of longing.

It’s weird how my bed is the same;

The linen's flowers still smell the same,

But because the walls surrounding it aren’t,

They don’t comfort me the same.

Cords in my heart rusting away from disuse,

Now clank solemnly at my loss,

And tears soon glitter my lashes

And I hug my knees,

As I finally crack under and cry.

I miss my old home.

I want to be back home

Amongst the walls I know,

Amongst the walls that watched me grow up,

The walls that took in the banter and laughter of my friends

And stuffed up the outlets with memories.

I want to go back home.

I wipe my nose with a tissue from my new home,

And look up at the walls.

I’d chosen white- pristine white.

I regret it.

I wish I had at least chosen

The color of my old home.