by ruddyruminations

Am I coming home now?
filtered light and the hum of fans
crickets creating cacophony
back then, I hungered for the world
My ribs protruding, mouth searching
deserts and cathedrals, mountains and forests
broken, crooked cobblestone
lovers and friends
and at the end of the day
my belly is filled with the hum of the crickets
the whir of the fan
and the constellations
for which we never knew
the names