There's No Place Like Home

When we get to my house,

Will doesn't stop.

He keeps going

and pulls in front of a nice house

with blue walls,

white shutters,

rose bushes,

and a porch swing that we've broken multiple times.

I don't have to tell him to go to his house

instead of mine.

He knows how tiring it is

for me to be home.

Home

is suffocating.

Home

has walls

that feel like they're closing in on me,

about to crush me.

Home

is filled with people who won't leave me alone

and act like I'm broken.

But even with all those people there,

home,

is lonely.

Author's Note

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