I'm done

Fighting
Trying
Fixing

I'm done

Being a cliche
Not making the cut
Being picked on

But yet here I am, doing all those things
Cliche
Cut
Picked

So I try to do as they say
And do something different

I cry instead of keeping it in
I talk instead of bottling up
I become vivid instead of shutting down

I'm done

Feeling stupid
Feeling useless
Feeling powerless

I'm done

Trapped
Pawn
Kid

I'm ready
Ready to stop taking it
Ready to take control
Ready to get out

So here I am
I'm done
I'm ready
So
I'm gone.

Somebody told me that you can always find your way home. That is because home is not always a place. As I sit at my desk, exhausted by nothing but what weighs on my heart, I realise — you’re home. You always have been and no one can compete with that. We can build a home together with our disagreements, our lonely nights and the love we think we deserve. But, that doesn’t matter as long as we keep it together.

You’re (I’m) the shelter I (you) seek.

You’ll kneel at altars and beg for a sense of belonging, but your home is here.

If ever you need
an instant reminder
of your mortality;
cast your eyes
toward the night sky
and gaze upon
the endless stars.

Chocolate or vanilla?
It depends on if I’m drinking milk or if I’m eating
one of your mom’s double chocolate brownies fresh out of that oven where the paint
is starting to chip off the sides where the door hits the countertop where we eat dinner with your parents
every Saturday night.
Summer or winter?
It depends on if you called me beautiful in the past few days and if had a good workout that day so I actually believed you
or if I’m in the mood to be lazy and lay on your bed
and watch movies all day as we cuddled up with that fleece blanket
eating popcorn and mac & cheese until we were stuffed past our limit.
Dogs or cats?
It depends on if I feel like being jumped on by the dog that looks like the one you lost
but could never fill the emptiness that took over you that night or if I was feeling okay with
occasionally being scratched when the cat who’s as old as you saw a shadow and jumped off my lap.
Early or late?
It depends on if the clouds are low in the sky and covering that spot where we liked to go and say nothing at all
or if the stars are out and we can lay under them talking about the universe and how small
everything around us actually is.
Dark or light?
It depends on if you fell asleep holding me and I woke up the same way or if you went out
and came crawling into bed the next morning smelling like cigarettes and her cheap perfume you tried to mask
by spraying yourself down with the cologne I got you last month.
Past or future?
It depends on if we’re talking about the times we laid together and talked about that little house in the woods
we were going to have or the countless times I was left sitting by that pond trying to decide what I did
to make you change your mind this time.
Do I miss you?
It depends on if we’re talking about the you that moved your schedule around to come watch me dance
up on that stage for the last time
or the you that sent that text and left town too afraid you wouldn't end it in person if you saw the look in my eyes.
Have I moved on?
It depends on if you mean whether or not I stopped thinking about how you signed that birthday card
from the both of us or if I learned how to love myself again.
Will I ever just give you a straight answer?
It depends.