Homesick : Thoughts from Manchester Art Gallery...

By Lucy Harbron - 22:43

Clinging to people like stones on shorelines of island, the fates crash me into and rip me out of too soon, skin tearing as the departure is forced and cruel. An ode to never knowing if it’s leaving or going, as the word is thrown around too loose for lips like these, Velcro pealing crack as I plead for no doors to be shut behind me, to board no boats no more. Let me stay here with the sirens, with the digging nails and scratching jewellery and ashen blond hair, so soft as it tightens around my neck.
Oh, let me stay here and play
in this disillusion that I’ve already reached my destination, the journey is over now in this one touch. Please, I want to sink into settlement with the beautiful devils, dip my toes in deep pools and dream of drowning. Don’t tear me from my lies and make me homesick for houses I should never have had the key for in the first place.

I don’t know where I’m supposed to be trying to get to. What those eyes would look like, what tone of voice says home correctly if they do not sing, if they do not mock. If they do not clamp down on wrists and make me a bed in which I crave to lie, how do I know where I’m supposed to pine for? 

If its not the blood on my fingertips from the grip, am I still allowed to call missing you, being homesick?

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