Home is Where You Hide From

Home--I could tell you exactly what it means

How many syllables, how it’s spelled, the definition easily given

Yet. I could not plot it on a map. Could not give you directions

No, not to my safe space. Not to the place where I settle

Seven buildings waiting, all with drawers inside just for me

And these drawers hold things. My things.

Clothes, wrinkled and dusty

Books with creased spines sitting on a shelf,

Some with bookmarks shoved halfway through

Marking the exact spot where I gave up

Brick and mortar, people calling to check in:

“I haven’t heard from you in a while”

“When are you coming home?”

“Your room is ready for you”

But its not ready because it’s not mine

Seven houses and still nowhere to sleep at night

But keep my things for me

Just in case I want to come back.