you kept to yourself

and that makes everyone wonder, now
that you're gone

and I tried to explain that sometimes there's
nothing you can do to change
someone's mind, no sense
wondering whether a
simple good morning
would have kept
you around

hindsight is 20/20, but
nobody saw that coming

Loads of people
milling about

like ants

food, water, money

do ants stop to consider each other?

maybe we should

tell me about
                     you

not that
hum drum shell like
fake western tourist traps

let me in

sing me a song, prove
to me what I can't quite put my finger on
(after these tired feet come from their shells)
face to the sky like a flame

Takes a while to sink in, this
new place, the smell of cleaning
products and wood, leather and
old books

This is my home—how did I get here?

I work maniacally, rearranging as a signature,
desperate approval for this change

So much space
"you'll be comfortable"

living apart, what
life should I lead?

I had grown tall,                                                         distant
                                                                                       and lost

(Within a cacophony of voices, a spectrum of choices)

Now,

                an awakening

Silent roots—grown tired of relative safety—leap
into the foreground

And spill color across my
blank canvas

tough love, coarse like
gritty asphalt, torn knees

makes me ache for unscripted
cheer, for a single bulb in an
otherwise dark room

unremarkable and
significant