A way home

Instead of having two homes, I have none.

I guess you could say I am home,

It’s dreary, and the roof leaks a lot.

Creaky floors

Musty curtains

Walls

I am home, but I’m never at home.

I see the cracks in the foundation when I look in the mirror.

I see the chipped paint when I wash my face.

It’s me against the world, I guess.

A home without a door.

People climb in through the windows,

But the intruder alarms scare them away.

One jumped over a wall; he was tall,

But the ghost in the attic gave him nightmares,

Made him a nicotine addict.

I am home, and I’m trying to make it safe for me.

Trying not to betray myself,

Hiding the address, hiring secret keepers.

But it’s hard you know,

When your heart is yours to have and to hold,

But your hands shake a little

And your grip isn’t the best.

Being clumsy is only cute when the thing that breaks isn't a heart.

Can’t be clumsy with hearts,

Can’t be reckless with hearts,

Not cute when they fall to the ground

Through the cracked foundation

Under the chipped paint

Into the depths of the earth

Never to be seen again.

Please be careful.

Put in a few rugs,

Re-paint,

Wipe the sweat off your hands,

Build a door,

Find a way to come home.

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