The ceiling is peppered
With burnt chestnuts,
Right in front of me,
A fox roars with laughter,
The walls are painted
Purple with bruises,
In the corner, a music box
Tinkles Tum Hi Ho,
While somewhere
Behind my eyes,
A golden kiss echoes.
I live in this space,
My home, my prison,
It contains a magic,
That makes pain
Feel a lot like love.
-
Author:
Kora (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 12th, 2026 05:46
- Comment from author about the poem: Can I Come Home - Highasakite
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, sorenbarrett, Demar Desu - 德马尔·德苏, Fränz Müller, ms.divine
Offline)
Comments6
You should get them tablets tested before you swallow 😂
😂😂 Nah, the crazy comes from inside 😂😂
Wow - that saves you a lot of problems.
PS: my moment was the sixties, so you can confess anything to Uncle Dave....😜
Hahaha thank you Uncle Dave 😅
Take care of yourself 👍
Beautifully done, your poem revolves around the complex interplay between pain and love, suggesting that they are intertwined experiences that shape one’s perception of home and identity.
Thank you so much for the insightful comment ♥️
This is a sensitive poem about abuse and the confusion it creates in how emotions are seen and expected. Very nicely written and a fave
As usual you are exactly right.
Thank you Soren ♥️
You are most welcome Kora
Lovely Kora, most poetic. Joy and sorrow unite.
Thank you Katie ♥️
Really liked this one!
Thank you so much ♥️
Love it
Thank you 🥰
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