I go back
To the place that molded me
Shaped me into who I am today.
The trees are so much taller
And I stand before them
That much straighter.
The paint that stuck in my memory
Of faded white and grey-blue trim
Is fresh and spotless and perfect,
Like the mask I painted
On my own face in the mirror that morning.
The grass I spent countless childhood days
Mowing and trimming and ****-whacking
Is manicured by professionals now.
And a different girl sits on the roof
Making her own memories.
We stare at each other in silence
Committing the other's features to memory.
Then with the slightest of nods in her direction,
I'm turn on my heel and gone.
You see I've been lost for awhile now
In this world we all must make our home.
And I thought that maybe by going back
I'd find myself.
And I suppose I did, but really I didn't.
I wasn't there--
In those memories.
No, I found myself--
I was in the walking away.