I fell in love with you through the tinted shades of my
long-lost childhood.
My love for you has boomeranged from adolescent dreams to
adult superstitions.
You have been the one constant in the entirety of my nomadic
life.
My heart flutters the second I see your skyline peak out
from behind the horizon.
I breathe in giddiness every time I cross your state line.
Your skies seem bluer and your flowers smell better than the
others.
There’s just something about you that has always captivated
me.
You are undeniably the closest to “home” I have ever felt.
So, that is why I can’t help but wade here in your pool of
disheartening incredulity.
You deceptively teased me with such tedious reciprocation
that all I can do is watch the pieces of my heart embed into
your soil.
I was always the first to notice your welcome sign,
but never felt truly welcomed, even in the multiple times I kept
returning to you throughout the years.
I have arbitrarily misread your signs this whole time.
I had worn out your welcome mat a long time ago.
You never wanted me here.
You never will.
You’re just another place I don’t fit in.
What a lost cause I am!
Just a rugged hitchhiker, inanely searching for a place that
I can finally call home.