It’s Not My Home Anymore

It's not my home anymore:
I see places I used to go, boarded up, closed,
no one I used to know.

Walking through memories:
in the art of the desert
that sculpted me.

Matching velvet outfits, purple - 
the restaurant where we went to dinner,
he pulled out my chair, prom.

Excited, about all the ways 
I was not going to make 
the same mistakes.

It's not my home anymore:
I know, because I am forty,
an adult, mistakes made.

Somewhere else,
the island - I lost my magic,
making it work.

Memories of magic:
I am walking through
my youth, nostalgia.

Back in time,
I ask questions, of myself:
I cannot answer.

It's lonesome, in my home:
on the island,
in the desert.

It's not my home anymore:
I look, I go, but it's not there,
It's not my home anymore.

L.J. Siewerth






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