Used to be a home

Everything about this place reminds me of you From the couch where you once sat to the bed we used to lay in From the kitchen where I once cooked for you to the bathroom where I held back your hair From your handprint on my bathroom mirror to the chair I always saved for you Every part of this place is infused with memories of you and they won’t go away Maybe it’s a good thing I’m leaving this place that I first called home The place I hoped we’d raise a child and have a family The place I where hoped to grow gray and old with you But you left… And now my home, the one place I should feel happy, is shrouded in a cloud of deep sorrow My house is no longer my home, but my prison Where my mind is kept under constant assault with memories of our past Where I have trouble sleeping because I got used to doing it with you next to me Where I have trouble eating because you aren’t across the table sharing the meal with me Where the one person I love most in the world took my heart and crushed it under their foot This place used to be my home. Now it’s a constant, heartbreaking reminder of what I’ve lost Who I’ve lost… I will always love you and I hate myself for it Because it would be so much easier to hate you For making my home, a prison. Signed, Me