Finding Home

Im back in this town again

on the streets I still know so well.

Just one place I used to call home,

at least for a little while.

Things change so subtly;

more buildings, more roads, less trees.

As I drive I try not to see your ghost.

This town is the the one place my thoughts speak up most.

Clockwork Orange, I can't escape.

Every regret, mistake, moment of shame,

is replaying in my head.

Close my eyes, try to sleep.

I know that I must leave.

I'm trying not to think of what I don't have

Everyone else has someone to come back to

Something they missed and still hold on to

All I have are memories

Some that never really ever happened

Everything I had is placed delicately inside my hands 

in boxes and crates to be stored:

photographs, notebooks, the scars on my skin,

every second spent with you, sweatshirts, and old guitars,

laughter, a deck of cards, 

and the sound of two people who were never happy.

I look behind town lines. 

Gone for good, gone in time, and I'm off to find exactly where is home.

Reviews

[Little Birdie]

Ah, sad, and hauntingly pretty.

[BlueDreams]

Brilliant and sad poem.... and feelings in this craft penetrates the heart...

[screamin'ian]

Moving through memory, so like a ghost town. Memories that never really happened? Fantasy to replace loneliness?
Memories of shared misery, of desperate companionship.
Gone for good; gone for the better is more like it.
Left behind in time, the past is done,
And home is the courage to step forward.

Beautiful, I enjoyed reading it.

[The Analog Kid]

it's good to review someone different once in awhile. These are painful memories...all these impressions of the places we have been can make the memories whether pleasant or painful come flooding back.