Description
The bloodstains of those who used to haunt me are smeared sacredly on the lines of my destiny. Those mossy doors and slippery floors are calling to me. The creaking windows and once-extravagant halls. Everything covered in cowebs. There's an eerie chill in air. It's a home beyond everything. It's there but it's not. It exists but it doesn't. Hiraeth used to be a way of living but never again. ~ hiraeth /ˈhɪərʌɪθ/ noun a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past ~ August 12, 2021 ~ #1 in ballads : September 3, 2021 #1 in alluring : September 3, 2021 #38 in poetry : September 3, 2021 #6 in hiraeth : September 3, 2021 #140 in poem : September 8, 2021
aesthetics
