Flashbacks like photographs of

monochrome images.

Re-visiting the places I once tried to call home and instead;

lost.

Walking along abandoned forests of my mind

and awakening from sleep to the claustrophobia of your

presence.

A being I am,

trapped in locked fortresses.

I am yet to be at home.

When you were here

my house felt barer than it had ever been.

You would wrap me in your arms-they

felt like home.

But;

then you evicted me.

You threw me overboard and left me;

stranded on homeless oceans

and still I waited for you to take me home.

You had already

claimed squatters’ rights on my broken heart.

I would love to forget what it’s like to be alone

with no place to call home

and no place of my own.

Each place I have had

has been flooded with oceans of desolate depressions.

I am yet to feel at home.

Calculated dis-honesty and

aggravated actions decorate my walls.

Heart-wrenchingly bad relationships left scars

on bricks and mortar.

Walls are covered with invisible blood

from my emotional wounds.

Floors imperfect; imprinted with the shape of my body

as it has collided with the floor.

Doors permanently scarred with the shape of your fists.

I am yet to feel at home.

An innate desire burns deep

to roam my home without desolate despondencies

accompanying me there.

Yearning for my house to be my home

without

the

Monochrome memories.

© Sarah Battison

 Sarah Battison is 28 years old from West Midlands, England. She is a Mum of three, Poet, Teacher and mental health advocate. She has recently released her first poetry collection ‘The Journey to Happiness’ and has only recently begun taking her writing seriously. She is on social media on the following sites; Twitter- @BattisonSarah , WordPress- www.livelifewithsarah.wordpress.com, Instagram- sarah_battison.