Hiraeth.

alexxxithymia:

Homesick.
But can it really be so
when you were never really my home in the first place.

My key wouldn’t fit the lock if I tried.
Though you look the same on the outside,
you’ve rearranged inside.

Redecorated.

And if I returned now,
I don’t think I’d recognize a thing.

I’m homesick for a home that was never really my own.
And my palm used to fit inside yours so perfectly.

Will I ever find somewhere I belong?