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Nov 2017
I have been collecting plane tickets
without even realizing that
they've been collecting dust
in the corners of my room.

But how ironic it is,
presenting itself in plain sight,
watching the matter of time
build up around all these memories

Memories as fleeting
and as temporary
as the pile of dust
clinging to its own past

I just find it so difficult to wrestle
with the beating of my heart
because it creates a song
that leaves me in awe

frozen in place,
forcing me to listen
and wanting me to stay

And foreshadowed nostalgia
always seems to run its fingers
down my spine
at the most inconvenient times

Because I still haven't found home

Or maybe I have -
Maybe the bright lights
and the city traffic
have always been calling my name

And I always find my fists clenched
every time the sun sets for the moon,
stealing the day and
distinguishing the light

I am just so tired of saying goodbye.
I'm tired of sleeping the night
knowing that I'll be
gone in the morning

I'm tired of the car rides
and the plane lines,
and the endless paper tickets
that remind me

I'm somewhere else than where I should be

Always on a path less travelled by -
but little did I know
I'd have to do it alone
on some barren road that always feels cold.

{I'm still adjusting}
Written by
gd  Canada
   Irate Watcher and Lior Gavra
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