I have had so many houses,
So many different views outside my window.
I am always
Packing up boxes, and
Unpacking clothes, I
Only own what I can fit
In a suitcase.
I have always looked for back doors,
Emergency exits, fire escapes,
In case I wear out my welcome, or
Linger too long
In one place.
I think if you say Goodbye enough times it starts to become a lifestyle.
And those two syllables taste like cigarette smoke coming from my mouth,
But no matter how many faces I slam the door on,
Or plane tickets I buy,
Or miles I put between us,
I carry your name etched into the soles of my feet, and I want you to know -
I don't necessarily need to make a home if I don't have one.
If a house is 30 years of thin walls, then maybe I am better off
I don't ever remember a time when flowers didn't wilt,
Or the galaxies behind people's eyes didn't burn up like novas the way bridges do when I'm given some matches and a lighter.
I don't ever remember a time when someone offered me their hand without me having to reach out first, and I want you to know -
I had the door slammed in my face first, but now
I am much better at
Navigating ocean currents and recognizing,
Visual distress signals.
I guess what I am trying to say
Is if I bare my teeth when you get too close
Take a step back,
But don't leave.
I have not yet mastered the art of standing still, but as of now
You are the only thing that slows my city down,
Instead of criticizing the view
I could just learn to shut the blinds.