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