New rooms—unfamiliar;
and faces to match people to.
New ideas that fill the dents
in the road like puddles to plow through.
All the old things are growing
dark, like memories, faded around the edges.
And all the new things are piling up
on top, on top, on top,
one above the other.
Houses aren’t homes and home
has no heart; and the cable’s going out—
flashing on, flashing off, void of snow
or white noise. Nothing feels like comfort,
nothing feels like safe,
everything is a mystery
like new shoes and a new city.
Like new friends, who hardly know
any history or plans.
Everything is familiar, but nothing
is the same; nothing is familiar, but everything
has changed.
And I am stuck inside myself
for the duration of the day.
I’m wandering the rooms I’ve left
unfamiliar in my head.
It’s time to open up their doors,
expand into them; move all my
baggage from the crowded spaces
I’ve used and even out my head.
“Come now,
come
and mourn me.
It’s so easy
now I’m gone.”
The rain has made the lawns like swaps
and has left my heart hoping for more.
Walking through the yard has become
like trudging through mud,
grass is ankle deep and growing
with the increase of precipitation.
The only things I want are
to feel more at home in this suburban wildernessand
to not have to shake mudded water from my feet.
I miss the smell of concrete and steam,
the sound of sirens past midnight,
the jolt of trains stopping and going,
moving across the tracks with rough sparks
and no hesitation.
I miss the people who made that city my home.
I miss their energy, their honesty,
the feeling that we were true friends—
despite all the [fake ones] we encountered.
And I miss being able to laugh without needing to,
without having to smile to keep my spirits lifted.
The coffee, the cold air, the coats, the strolls,
the train rides for no reason, the adventures
that were ours.
People think I am strong, because it’s raining
and I smile.
What they can’t see are my hollowed-out insides,
and that I am happy just to not be sad.
To Feel Something Beating Against My Chest
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