once, while searching for peace,

comfort found me in the middle of the night.

It came in the form of cups of coffee and plates shared with friends I barely knew.

and under the yellow haze cast from overhead lights

we brushed away the dust of the long summer day

with talks of past mistakes and stories of things we've done.

with gossip and gospel.

on the ride home we talked about human nature

and the weather in Ohio

while through the windshield the moon illuminated the fog and threw shadows on the faces of sleeping backseat passengers.

looking back I realized,

that night, in those hours before sunrise

we constructed a whole new universe around each other.

I met a man who claimed him and I came from the same home,
I told him I've never been.

he didn't understand my disconnected nostalgia,
Instead he trusted place and time.
I guess he hasn't had much experience with drafty windows or closed mouths.

I tried to explain to him, home is where you hide your skeletons,
and I've used people and words as closet doors,
when that didn't work I buried them in shallow graves under my skin.

he said he noticed the bones sticking out of my body and I told him,
my search for home as left me starving and unstable,

that after a lifetime of asking for directions
to churches and cemeteries,
I've become envious of comfortable beds and worn-in floor boards.

place your hand on my chest

can you feel the rustling?

the almost constant buzzing of the monster growing it's nest?

in moments of stillness I can feel it tunneling through my bones,

until it comes to rest inside my ribcage

waiting to hear it's name called again,

when it will flap it's wings in reply,

shedding feathers under my skin.

once it's awakened it will continue its endeavor

in pecking and pulling,

making more room for itself

and less room for me.

the ebb and flow
the back and forth
the wind carrying sand and salt water breath.
the current takes us in it's rhythmic side to side sway,
almost matching us to the waves completely.
the beauty of a paradise
juxtaposed with the nearing reality of less.
the stillness of life like distant ships,
carried away by time and tide.
fleeting, but no less beautiful because of it.