I promise to be your home that will wait for you every night. I will be your anchor, we will sail through this life.
Pieces of you are implanted
in my mind, you carved holes
for warmth inside my bones
and you sail within my blood.
It’s learning every day that you can survive anywhere, but you can only truly live at home.
I still find it hard to forget what you’ve done. I still find it hard not to picture the life we could have had if you didn’t selfishly tear it all apart.
You are meant to be with someone who sees through you.
Thank you for showing me how to live a life that is worth remembering.
Living abroad almost always means there will be loved ones left behind. But expats also miss the landscapes, the cities, and the weather of home.
It sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? To unpack your life and make a home out of someone else’s heart, to settle down and understand what everyone means when they say home isn’t a place, it’s a person. But they never talk about what happens when that person leaves.
Maybe cities are a lot like relationships, if it’s not meant to be, it will never feel right, it will never feel like home, it will never work no matter how hard you try.
Something about drinking at a hotel bar.