"don't look back, you'll turn to stone"
the words i heard driving past my old home
melancholic breeze sending sweet messages to my tachycardia ridden body, a bird that passes through in peace but drops dead like a fly within my smoldering territory
remembering the years I spent inside that home, time that in my fragile state today i'd mistakenly describe as a respite from my current place
but as I sink into my seat, the sobering reality that I am the same motionless vessel that I was then begins to set in
the labyrinth I could not escape still pervades my every waking moment
the days I coped with promises to myself, from a wealth of unearned confidence that has long since run dry
the only difference between them and me being the destiny I coaxed myself into believing at seventeen

i am a worthless pillar of salt

cursed from the moment a devil pointed his finger at something behind me

You've made yourself  miniscule ..

in order to fit in to my Bloodstream
You are unsure..  not knowing

That there is a  chamber  within me
that has been carved out   solely

     for you--

The warmth of blood-flow,  caressing;
Bathing,  the you that feels you can't..

  That feels  there isn't..

That believes  there can never be
  A Home such as this--

       .. for you ;;
Residing, in the central part
    of me.

Alone  in the  chamber
  of your room..
You can't understand  why

things are different,  now;
..Why  everything you do

and everything  you say

   Feels so incredibly,,

   Incredibly  Warm