Homeless

What's mine is all yours,
All my windows and my doors,
Will always be open,
Even when we've not spoken.
Everytime I hear the bell,
It makes my whole heart swell,
And when it's not my moon
My rising high tides get strewn,
This pull I feel, is impossible to ignore,
Makes me pull my hair and drop to the floor.

What's yours was never mine,
But your home was my shrine,
I heard the door shut, thud,
Sounded like my breaking heart instead,
With a pretty, heavy smile I started my walk,
All the while, with myself, had a great talk,
Now I've nowhere to go,
I've a rented roof though,
But doesn't feel like home,
Like a homeless, I will roam.

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