living in my body feels a lot
like waiting for a home to be foreclosed.
I know I must be leaving soon
because the signs are all there,
I just don’t know if it will ever feel right.
I suppose it never does.

living in my body feels a lot
like taking the locks off of my front door.
too many people have attempted to wander in,
lovelorn and lost and lonely,
and I’m starting to wonder if being open
was my first mistake.

now it’s too late to replace the locks,
to take down the signs,
to reclaim what was once mine,
because this home is inhabited
by someone else.

living in my body feels a lot
like waiting for a home to be foreclosed.
I know I must be leaving soon.
everything is in boxes
and all that’s left is this
empty space.