2 thoughts on “Monday Poetry”

1. Home becomes, something we desperately, want to, get away from, but we can’t, because, we can, never sever the, bloodties, even if, there had not been, any, love between us and our, next-of-kins; the layers of our selves, get, built up, thicker and, thicker, because, we don’t make ourselves, deal with our own emotions as they, surfaced up, and, by the time there’s, that, huge “pile-up”, then, it’s time for those, disaster-grade, meltdown, and, we will, tell our selves, we won’t, carry too much, but, we still, keep to our, old ways, and, we get, stuck.

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   1. I have always defined home as the place that when you are there they can’t tell you that you have to leave. Unfortunately, I found that I had to make it in my own life before I was able to accept the idea because I never had one in childhood. The closest thing I knew was my grandmother’s house and my mom took that away from me.

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