i wanted someone to come home to
someone who felt like home
no matter where we were.
it started coming in small waves–paint chipping off the banister, a cracked window, a small leak in the roof.
but as the years dragged on
and the ceiling started to cave in
and we ran out of ways to patch it all up,
you left the crumbling walls for something sturdier.
i still visit the now-decrepit shack from time to time.
i reminisce. i take a stroll down memory lane.
more than i care to admit
i am back at square one missing a person
i don’t even know anymore.
and with that thought
i kick at the pile of nothing
i once thought was so permanent.