home

home is home and indeed it is bliss
resting bones and familiarity, remnants and pivotal
of a young girl, or a girl, or a person, or at least an identity


yet the thing about home is
that it reminds you too much of the person that you are
every nook
and cranny
and crevices
and the yellow camisole that hangs just above your plant lavender
or the letters you wrote when you were just 12 and life feel too much to answer
it felt too much like raw wounds and vulnerability
and the life you're hanging death upon to escape from