I can’t stay here

or my hometown will swallow me.

I’ll slip into memories and never

get out.

I’ll walk into my old high school and disappear

into senior year.

I’ll visit my childhood home

and feel seven years old.

How can you stay, grow up, move on in the same place?

 

Going home makes my throat close

because I can’t walk back into my old life.

The neighborhood looks the same.

I’m not the same.

Poetry

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