Calling Me Home
You keep calling me home,
But that place has never belonged
To me, and I have never felt
So alone. You’re only an hour away,
But again we are 17, drowning
Ourselves in pools of watercolor
And nostalgia were not old enough
To know. Who are you now?
I am someone I don’t recognize;
Full of a child’s hatred without
The words to name it.
2 thoughts on "Calling Me Home"
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This expresses irritation/anger in a very melancholic, almost soft way. It captures quite a bit in quite a few lines. I especially loved “Full of a child’s hatred without/The words to name it” — it was the perfect ending.
This poem speaks to me in so many ways