House in the Blizzard
I'm homesick for a place that probably doesn't exist. I have no home. I have a house, you can take my place if you like. I have a family too... It's a little broken, but you can take my place there too. They don't feel like home. No one does anymore, not fully. Insecurities batter the windows, until the glass finally breaks, Sending shards over the floor. Ice cold air floods in through the pane and pain, Chilling it to the core; A reminder of the constant blizzard outside the walls. This place is no longer a home.
Grab backpack, knife and jacket, leave, boots crunching on the frozen ground. I wasn't there long enough to take them off. Close the door, move on. Snow pelts my face, pushing me back. At least I'm moving, if not alive. The house behind quickly crumbles, Remains freeze in time, just another embrace I am not safe in. Walk. Walk on. Further. Onward, to where I can rid myself of homesickness, To a place that probably doesn't exist.
