From the I’ve always known you’d fall into me. collection, you still feel like home — a little lingers in the tension between comfort and closure. It’s about the way someone can still feel familiar long after they should have been a stranger — the way memory keeps certain doors cracked open, even when you know better.
This piece explores the quiet ache of recognizing the pull of the past while knowing you can’t step back inside it. It’s the bittersweet realization that home isn’t always where you should stay — but it’s hard to stop feeling its warmth.
“I should have changed the locks by now.”
Some ghosts don’t haunt you loudly.
They just keep their shoes by the door.
From the I’ve always known you’d fall into me. collection, you still feel like home — a little lingers in the tension between comfort and closure. It’s about the way someone can still feel familiar long after they should have been a stranger — the way memory keeps certain doors cracked open, even when you know better.
This piece explores the quiet ache of recognizing the pull of the past while knowing you can’t step back inside it. It’s the bittersweet realization that home isn’t always where you should stay — but it’s hard to stop feeling its warmth.
“I should have changed the locks by now.”
Some ghosts don’t haunt you loudly.
They just keep their shoes by the door.
