Homesickness
it wraps around you tightly right before you go to sleep and after you've woken up you're vulnerable in these moments you've either removed the armour, or you're yet to wear it The armour that helps you carry out the facade the armour through which you face the world you wake up tired you go to sleep tired for the armour is heavy it's a burden that you've been carrying for a while you miss home you miss the light that seeped through the window every morning even when the curtains were closed and fell on the money plant at your work desk and then on you you covered your face with the blanket it's not time yet; let me sleep, you said you want to be as persistent as that light, but you're tired you miss caressing your partner's hair you miss the familiarity of every smell, of every sight you miss waking up in your home the home that hugs you on good days the home that lets you be on the bad ones