I tried making home of other men. Front doors of their sternums Two story foyers of their torsos and porcelain stairs of their ribs. Tracked myself in and out of their memories looking for space for my baggage. Had conversations with my echos as I screamed
I LOVE YOU
into hollow atriums. Made my bed on diaphragms and felt each draft of inhale exhale pieces of me to...somewhere.
I tried making home of other men. Hang memories on occipital lobes Affix my name to Broca's areas so the world knew I found home in another man.
I am tired of making home in other men. Foundations thought solid grow legs and wander way out yonder Take my memories and love leaving me nothing but my empty.
I am tired of making home in other men. Tending hedges shining floors and making welcome for those deemed worthy of home - not me.
I am tired of making home in other men so I will make home in myself. Put my hands on every crack lay smooth my rough edges and plant beauty in my own yard.
I am tired of making homes for other men, so I will make this home for me.
The process of begging for love and learning to love yourself.