It started honest and innocent, classmates with
heavy backpacks and shoulders that carried our books
and our hopes and dreams.
Those dreams drew closer,
lights at the end of our tunnels,
and we turned to each other to find
the things we were missing.
Bodies close and hearts closer,
different skin tones made of the same material.
When I had to go you let me,
even though I wish you never
let me walk through that door
in the first place.
I crawled from your arms
bloodied and bruised
and three years later I crawled into your arms
seeking the home I left behind so long ago.
It will never be the same
but that will have to be okay.
It’s so easy to fall back to you.
You were the first, the beginning,
the one who saw my baggage as it was piled on.
I’m a comfort creature,
only wanting what I know
and never seeking more.
New feels like a warzone, bullets flying
and I could get shot at any moment,
so I retreat to the safety of the place
I never should’ve left.
I never knew a person could be a home
in all the right and wrong ways.
YOU ARE READING
Little Poetry Projects
PoetryWhen I was younger, I wrote a lot; mainly sad poetry and bad attempts at fanfiction. I met my first best friend on here. Before I took my first creative writing class, I hadn't written anything decent in a long time. Whenever I sat down in front of...
