Homesick

A poem I wrote about chasing after love but never finding satisfaction.



We walk aimlessly
Down empty streets
And shaded alleys
For love we cannot find. 

Behind corner stores,
Between the grocery shelves,
Burried in crowded rows, and
Beyond uncaring screens – we search. 

We even crack the spine,
read the turn of riddled lines,
but find them empty too.

Surely, filled with love,
but none for you. 

Whilst lovers roam, desperately,
some believe they find the key.
But still they see they lack a single piece.
Such a strange, large spot to fill. 

I’ve witnessed none like it before -
Amongst the shelves, the streets or screens.
We still believe a gem is there amongst
the grime and dirt we see. 

Some find one they think may fit.
But trying they can't touch fingertips. 

Others, seem to fill the space,
but it hurts when shoved into place. 

We're either left with gaping holes, or we suffocate. 

Lovesick. 
Perhaps, homesick –
is what we really are.