Anxieties of ‘Home’

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Anxieties of ‘Home’

My room is a haunted tomb;

Concealed by what I cover my walls.

I used to spend so much time lying around,

bed rotting for years, pretending to feel okay.

I can’t be home for a few days without

everything closing in on me;

Used to living around you.

You have become my home,

and time moves so slowly without you.

Piles on the floor build up once more;

Hiding what’s underneath.

Feeling alone in a place I used to call

my safe space only fills me with grief;

ing all the bad emotions

within these walls.

At 3 AM;

I’m riding across town in the rain just

to hide in your room,

awaiting for you to come back,

And to get away from mine;

Away from the mess and anxieties

I can’t clean up, the stuff I want to

leave behind.

You don’t know how much I need you.

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3am poems hit different? Idk I don’t write anymore. This was from like half a week ago.