have you ever looked
at a house and felt
a crippling pain that
you couldn’t go in it?
i have
every day i see my own
front porch
and every day i see the house
still in someone else’s name
but not for much longer
the first hurt is raw
ripping and searing
through my heart
and running into hot
cinnamon fire tears
burning my cheeks
the second hurt is dull
stinging like a
badly sharpened knife
over skin or knowing
what your birthday
present is but having
to wait while not
letting on you know
i grew accustomed to
the custom of becoming
myself in this house
but the walls i grew up in
grew inward too tightly
around me to choke me
and still i have
a pillow to bury my
face in at night
a shower to wash off
the day dust
a kitchen to stand in
when i’m feeling
a bit lost
but lost is the only
feeling i have
when i’m here
in this house
i don’t live here
anymore
i live on my feet
behind counters
through the parking lot
and up the sidewalk
slipping in before
the sun is up
and dragging out
when others are in bed
feeling small
on a dull afternoon
when i can only curl
up on the couch
to think
and wait
time in between
that’s now
time between shifts
and time between living
in my house
and finding my home
it’s not so much
the waiting game
it’s the feeling
that i’m alone
that nobody
wants me
so close and
yet so far
almost there
but stuck here
just keep
the worn floors clean
music playing
and make sure
the janky old doors
are locked at night
this is my town
this is my home now
this town will take
care of me
as i’m wandering through it
halfway homeless
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 10:17 PM UTC
have you ever looked
at a house and felt
a crippling pain that
you couldn’t go in it?
i have
every day i see my own
front porch
and every day i see the house
still in someone else’s name
but not for much longer
the first hurt is raw
ripping and searing
through my heart
and running into hot
cinnamon fire tears
burning my cheeks
the second hurt is dull
stinging like a
badly sharpened knife
over skin or knowing
what your birthday
present is but having
to wait while not
letting on you know
i grew accustomed to
the custom of becoming
myself in this house
but the walls i grew up in
grew inward too tightly
around me to choke me
and still i have
a pillow to bury my
face in at night
a shower to wash off
the day dust
a kitchen to stand in
when i’m feeling
a bit lost
but lost is the only
feeling i have
when i’m here
in this house
i don’t live here
anymore
i live on my feet
behind counters
through the parking lot
and up the sidewalk
slipping in before
the sun is up
and dragging out
when others are in bed
feeling small
on a dull afternoon
when i can only curl
up on the couch
to think
and wait
time in between
that’s now
time between shifts
and time between living
in my house
and finding my home
it’s not so much
the waiting game
it’s the feeling
that i’m alone
that nobody
wants me
so close and
yet so far
almost there
but stuck here
just keep
the worn floors clean
music playing
and make sure
the janky old doors
are locked at night
this is my town
this is my home now
this town will take
care of me
as i’m wandering through it
halfway homeless