i'm missing a home
and it took me too long to realize that foundations aren't lovers or whiskey or blame
but support beams are made of hearts and i manage to take a sledge to every one that i've gotten
windows are gazes that look on me and love and care but i seem to go through life with eyes closed and brows furrowed
i'm missing a home that was once littered with flowers and herbs and safe
crisp lawns and gardens full of welcome and solid ground
who's walls were cemented together with ache and pain but healing and growth
who's patience capped off on high ceilings until i blew the roof in with dynamite expectations and explosive temperament
it once had scars but an eviction notice later & a few months time &, though they still echo under touch if you're searching with gentle fingertips, they've been painted over
and are over and it was a beautiful home then and a beautiful home now and
well- i moved around a lot as a child, i guess i just don't know what it's like to expect to keep a home of my own, but
**** do i know the pain of missing one.
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i'm gale force winds against shutters that have already fallen off so many times and, as a level 5 hurricane, damage is my middle name
i'll move through life trying to be a breeze or a breath but i kind of feel like i'll never be anymore than this
so i guess what i want to say is congratulations to that home, grown stories already and under construction still but better than it ever was under my occupancy
but i think about it a lot and i wish that welcome mat was worn down by my footprints and my liquor spilled on its carpet, my secrets in its walls
but i understand that we're welcomed under roofs for reasons and removed for others and we can't kick holes into walls and expect them to ever be the same.
your 'private property' sign has been duly noted, months ago in fact
but i've never been homesick like this.