My life packed in boxes.
Memories taped up &
The books I read
over and over again.
The stuffed animals I held
when there was no one else to hug.
The letters friends wrote me
when I was grounded in high school,
old journals I scribbled my heart’s desires in,
poetry books I had written every page of,
candles I had lit to ground me, to settle my
wild spirit: all in boxes now, all ready to go.
We’re moving onto brighter horizons, greener pastures,
but my heart hurts sometimes when I look around and have to say
Goodbye to the stove with its permanent marker settings,
goodbye to the hallway with our shadow boxes of concerts we went to
and operas we saw,
goodbye to the balcony where we grilled burgers and grew flowers & spices,
goodbye to the couch I lay on while contemplating life, love, & happiness.
Goodbye to the memories of the men who came before him,
goodbye to the place that felt like an oasis after living in a desert for a year.
This was home, and I know the next place will be better,
the next place will consist of brighter horizons, greener pastures,
it’s five years of goodbyes and my life packaged up in boxes and taped up,
ready to move on before the word “goodbye” even falls out of my lips.
(Because sometimes, we forget part of moving is moving on.)