Come Back

I miss the streaks of sunlight that would enter my room,

through the window.

The sound of breakfast being made finds its way,

under my door.

Here, I wake up to none of those things.

My mother tells me to come back.

I miss going to the movies,

with my father.

The smell of buttery popcorn sneaks its way,

into the theater.

Here, I watch movies in my room. Alone

My father tells me to come back.

I miss arguing,

with my sister.

The sight of rage, in her eyes,

stems from a place of caring.

Here, I argue, but there isn't any love behind it.

My sister tells me to come back.

I miss home,

but I don't want to leave.

I miss living with my family,

but I don't want to lose my identity.

I miss my friends,

but I'll make new ones here.

Everyone asks me,

when will I come back?

I don't know.