so the love of my life is the sky,
so my secrets are at the bottom of wine bottles.
so my heart, my pure heart,
is resting under muscle and bone.
i keep praying to the cigarette smokers on the corner
and the girls covered in glitter and tequila salt.
the warmth found under my king sized comforter
on my twin sized bed
miles from truth and minutes from trouble
is stifling my lungs with falsities.

so the life i am living is not my own
so i've learned the beauty of the unknown
is nothing compared to the comfort
of my sister's eyes, my mother's laugh,
my back porch at sunset in the summer
where bare feet and cigarette smoke
prance around in the grass.

so the strong hands of strangers
pull me apart.
so i let them.
because i'm not here, i'm not anywhere,
except in the house at the end of the road
with hydrangeas lining the walkway
and familiar voices calling me home.