sometimes our homes turn against us
books grow stale and the words colorless
while the spines go limp in starved hands
the favorite chair grows sharp and spined
with springs that find the wrong places
so you find yourself standing in the kitchen
more and more and more every day
no matter how much you turn down the air
it doesn’t seem to get any colder 

next come the people that you thought
loved and understood you the most
compared to all those blank looking faces
that you see daily at the shove and grind
begin to grow sharp and feral against 
the restlessness that keeps you leaning 
on the counters looking out the window
at nothing or the clouds or silver planes

so you leave
and it hurts
the world
takes you
and cuts you
into pieces

you don’t heal before they find you
people that deserve you
that limping thing of wounds and grief
they’ll help you find those things
to make sure when the time comes
you become the person you need to be
but they’ll allow you 
kindly
a visit to remember 
the you that was 
in the before
because it’s your testament of adversity
no longer a victim of all that pain and violence
and those teeth breaking nights
when you were sure that 
stepping out into traffic
would ensure that they couldn’t 
hurt you anymore

I wish I could say this to all of those
that didn’t make it this far
before it was too late

no matter
I still love you