I've always believed
home follows wherever
the heart goes
but if I leave
both behind,
nothing changes—
whatever's left is
still empty
and cold, cold, cold
you took all the warmth
it's not that you're
to blame;
it wasn't mine
to take comfort under
to start with
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoetryI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
