They say home is wherever you lay your head at night
That must be true
because my former house has a lock on the door now;
a lock to keep me out.

I never realized this is how it is to be homeless,
the endless wandering of a place to rest at night
the endless cycle of hunger and
thirst and
protection

I walk out of work with not a place to be in the world
and if I’m being honest it should frighten me.

I am a wanderer.

I have no sense of direction,
no moral pull,
nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I have this endless feeling of discomfort and
an airy breeze where the good in my heart and soul should be.

I am a girl, not a very beautiful or talented one.

I belong to anyone who belongs to everyone.

Home is where I rest my head for a night.

Home is a backseat
Home is a smoke filled room at 2 am
Home is a parking garage
Home is a strangers bedroom

Home is a feeling rather than a location,
but those who have a lock and key and
a mortgage fee will never understand.

The fall of any man is
hid
in forbidden things.

This is not a poem
This is a statement
Until recently I loved others the way
I wanted to be loved
I've learned that I need to love me
How I want to be loved
And learn how others want to be loved
To love them the way they
Want to be
<3

oh darling,
you must understand
i never meant for it to be like this
never meant for it to be us
locking eyes
and quickly looking away.

oh darling,
you must believe me when i say
you're merely a figment
of my wild imagination
you don't exist
and if you do -
well it's in my mind

but darling,
don't worry
i'll look for you in
the crescent moon eyes
of a real boy
to call my own.