January 2015
i am freshly nineteen.
a boy with black lipstick comes down unfamiliar stairs
from a mysterious Above.
i wonder if i'll ever see this place.
March 2015
same boy, no lipstick.
i kiss him at a bar
but do not yet get to see the mysterious Above.
i hope to see it soon.
April-June 2015
i wake up most mornings
in the Above place.
i sometimes wear lipstick, but usually not.
it is bright and
cold and
nowhere near the bathroom.
July-December 2015
i reluctantly walk up now
all too familiar stairs
to an Above place where
i am not wanted
or welcome
but i still need a place to put my bag, so i ignore the signs both
literal and figurative.
January 2016-
i am welcomed with
open arms to
the Above place and
do not want to leave
but
home is a subjective term and time doe not stop for nostalgia;
i am glad no one else will get to see the Above the way i do.