You Were My Home (Spoken Word)

~*~Oh, HI! Finally back with a new spoken word poem~*~ Weeeeee! Feelings! Emotions! Oh my!


I understand that I’m not being very fair lately,
that my loneliness and confusion are fusing together in a masochistic cocktail
and I’m sipping from it when no one is looking.
Like I’m Don Draper,
glass in one hand,
insecurity in the other.
I keep rewriting this person that I am,
Never really sure which version I like the best.
Here I am,
Girl on the internet speaking like she knows who she is.
Unapologetic about her scars,
but still picking at things she knows are going to bleed.

I’m still bleeding,
reaching out to you in the darkness
hoping you’re gonna be there with a flash light,
and a set of bandaids.
Or that smile,
That smile I have tried to erase for three years.
And sometimes,
I do a damn good job.
Sometimes,
I’m so full of the wanting and the blue screens,
that it’s like you were never even there,
You were never a part of me.
Until I fall asleep
Because there,
I can’t distract myself from you.
Can’t pretend all things happen for a reason.
Because you and I both know,
Sometimes,
things are just shit and we try to make do the best way we know how.
At funeral processions,
with our numbing obsessions.
I keep thinking if I could just see you,
things would make sense again.
That I wouldn’t feel so cold.
Because how’s a planet not supposed to be cold
when she has no Sun?
when she has no warmth?
when she revolved around her buddy,
even though she got mad when he called her buddy,
because buddy is usually reserved for people who don’t wanna see you naked.
But buddies,
Buddies can be partners.
Buddies can be confidantes.
Can be entire solar systems,
and I never thought we would stay in that black hole we fell in.
I thought endings for us
were always just temporary spots,
Because we were permanence in every way.
That nothing has ever felt like seeing you get out of the elevator at that hotel,
or across a crowded airport.

I was home.
And so were you.
Because bodies can be homes
People can be homes, too.
I think I’m so cold because it’s been a long time since I’ve been home.
And I’m sure you’re happy.
And I’m sure you’re in love.
And you’ve carved a new home,
And I wanna bring you a welcome mat,
or a gift that just says, “Thank You For Being My Home.”

Maybe it’s never too late
for a thank you card to say,
“You gave me something I have yet to replace. Thank you for home.”

Thank you for home. TC mark

Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

More From Thought Catalog

  • https://thoughtcatalog.com/maya-kachroo-levine/2016/01/22-productive-things-to-do-when-you-feel-lost-and-dont-know-whats-next/ 22 Productive Things To Do When You Feel Lost And Don’t Know What’s Next | Thought Catalog

    […] 18. Read a poem. […]

  • http://deluxejob.com/22-productive-things-to-do-when-you-feel-lost-and-dont-know-whats-next/ 22 Productive Things To Do When You Feel Lost And Dont Know Whats Next - DeluxeJob.com

    […] 18. Read a […]

blog comments powered by Disqus