this is not home these lights which beckonthis is not home by =iPawed
which flicker in the darkness
whispering -- home, home
you are home
are overlaid with memories
of another city; of other faces.
i am not home
it is a place to rest:
to set down my suitcase,
to let my soul-worried soles heal,
to let this gypsy heart soften
but it is not yet home.
i see ghosts of hills,
a thousand miles away
their curves pressing over
the lines of these;
i see, warped but sure
the trees and roads i fell for,
fell in love with and i am sorry
i'm in love. i'm in love,
savour the sound! -- i dream,
dream of histories
which will never be mine
as the conductor motions me through
the
he's why i wanna keep all your kisseshe's why by =iPawed
in the hollow of my throat, little stars,
sitting there so everyone can see them:
"this is how much he cares
-- what've you got?"
i wanna show people this,
because when i'm walking around this city,
head held high, i know i am beautiful
painted with the best of summer:
statuesque, long stride, stong legs,
purpose and meaning --
but i feel, suddenly, i am unreachable
and i wanna show them, no, no i'm not.
he's there. i'm not unreachable,
i'm untouchable. i am his.
sometimes i am not amazing, because i lose
reasons to be. sometimes i'm happy
being a wallflower, because it is not
important: there's
Lonely 
Sta.sh
