Back Where I Started

I pulled in slow,

Tires crunching gravel like they used to

Every summer when we’d stay here

Back when it felt like home.

The porch light’s still busted.

The mailbox still leans

Like it’s too tired to stand up straight.

I swore I’d never come back here.

But I came back anyway.

No one’s been in the house for years,

But it smells the same—

Old coffee and cedar and dust.

I walked into the kitchen

And the chair I broke in ’03

Still wobbles when you sit on it.

That fridge still hums like a lullaby

For the life we never really figured out.

You ever go somewhere

That still remembers you

Even if you tried to forget it first?

I found the box in the hallway closet,

The one with your name on the top.

It had the postcards we never sent,

The keys to that car that broke down

Every time we needed it not to.

There was that photo

Of us in matching jackets—

Mine way too big,

Yours full of holes

But you wouldn’t throw it out.

I sat down on the stairs.

Thought about what I’d say

If you were still here.

Would I apologize?

Would you?

Would it even matter now?

We were a mess,

But we were real.

We didn’t know much,

But we knew how to feel.

And maybe that’s why it hurts—

Some things break

But they still feel like yours.

I opened a beer from the old corner store.

Yeah, it’s still there.

Same guy, same neon light buzzing

Like it’s got something to say

But never quite gets the words out.

He asked if I was back for long.

I said,

“Nah, just passing through.”

Which wasn’t really true,

But it sounded easier than

“I came to remember the parts I forgot.”

I slept on the couch with the window cracked.

Heard the wind hit the screen

Like a soft knock

From a ghost that meant no harm.

Dreamed about the fight we had

On the front lawn

Where you said,

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

And I yelled,

“Then why’d you?”

Funny how the things we bury

Don’t stay buried long

If the soil’s not deep

And the rain keeps coming.

I left a note on the fridge

That just said,

“Thanks for the memories—

Even the ones that sucked.”

I think that’s honest.

I think that’s fair.

I think if you read it,

You’d understand.

I stood for a while in the hallway mirror,

Just long enough to not recognize myself.

A little more tired. A little more grown.

But somehow still that same kid from back then.

I thought about calling your number,

Even though I know you changed it years ago.

I guess I just needed to pretend

You might pick up and say, “Hey… I get it now.”

(bridge, quiet)

We weren’t perfect.

Not even close.

But it was something.

And not all "somethings" last.

Doesn’t mean they didn’t matter.

We weren’t perfect.

Not even close.

But it was something.

And not all "somethings" last.

Doesn’t mean they didn’t matter.

We were a mess,

But we were real.

We didn’t have money,

But we had how we feel.

And maybe that’s enough—

To know we had something

That was almost love.