I Want to Go Home

I decided to continue... until I had got over my pain by comparing it with other people's, or had worn out my own story through sheer repetition.

But continuing, it is too difficult. Two years on, I am having the same jitters as if I had met you just last week. The sadness is too real to forget still, and the reasons are even more apparent, though less distinct. It is the green light on the other side of the river, it is there but it comes and goes and at times it is blur around the edges, though some nights it is sharp and pierces my heart through my eyes. That is why it will never be worn out, it takes different shapes, it is never the same thing. It burns and rises again from the ashes to fly, circling above my head. Home is a feeling I buried in you, so maybe that is why, thinking about you, all I understand is the longing for home, the yearning for you. I'm tired now, off to bed, perchance to dream of a better home.