I fell asleep with the taste of blood in my mouth, despite the daisies that slept around my neck;
nothing felt like home anymore.
Falling asleep in my own bed, my fathers footsteps filling my eardrums,
 
But I’m a shadow.  I never grew up inside my home, it grew inside of me instead; inside my bones, beneath my skin.
My home was a little White House, with blue painted walls which when I stood between, made me feel so safe.
 
I’m eighteen now, and instead of leaving home, my home is leaving me. Dragging away every last part I’ve held onto, taking my shaky soul along.
I lay beneath the vast sky, the gaps between my toes filled with the prickly grass; as I cried to the moon to let my home stay with me, for I am not ready,
to let it go.
 
I never wanted to let you go.

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