Thoughts lost (no place to go back to)

Stood by the door suitcase waiting
for a day the taste
of a slice of nirvana
uplifts the inner sides
of the outer edges of the nostalgia within my smile
the words run

my mouth opens
but I don't try to chase them
I already know their favourite place to hide
right beside the thoughts of things six feet down
thinking
that a life that might be short
should be spent
looking down at planted feet

roots and grapevines mingled
in intermittent intervals
most pleasing to my eye
like pictures of fingers linked
playing me home
with songs like gently brushed eyebrows

too often I face the wrong way
and the key too brittle to be hit so often
the note with the unfaithful fob
gives a little ring
as I push the button for the bell
and the pang reminds me
it won't sound the same as a guest