“My Heart Was Never in My Room”
My back pressed against the bed,
My eyes were fixed on the ceiling.
My hands resting on my forehead
My body was in my room,
But my heart,
Darling, my heart,
was never there.
It was somewhere else.
In the moment when I felt alive,
When summer was young,
When the breeze danced,
When even the stillness was full of life.
In the quiet nights
that held a kind gentleness
In the chirping of birds,
beneath the ceiling fan,
My heart wandered.
Get Awrie Moon’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
It returned to when I was a child
wild, yet somehow tame.
My heart stayed in that timeline,
Where it didn’t know
How the story would unfold.
My heart refuses the present.
refuses contentment,
despite all that surrounds it.
Darling, nostalgia is a curse
But also a blessing.
A blessing,
because it reminds us
We were once alive
and blissfully naive.
A curse,
because it traps us
In a past that’s gone
And gone.
