Deja-Vu

Some say that home is two eyes and a beating heart. Home and you are words that could never be torn apart. But even after all this love we pour, why can’t I shake this homesickness from my core?

Lonely in my lover’s arms like morning coffee with no cup. I used to say that you were everything I need but those sweet words become cryptic when I’m begging for you to stay while on my knees.

Life swirling out of control yet I have everything they say I should need. Home . . . where are you hiding? It feels like I can’t breathe. . . my thoughts are becoming a landslide and this familiarity is turning into a compassionate suicide.

Then it hit me when my eyes touched the horizon. The sky birthed an ocean, sitting heavy on my chest containing every emotion.

A new kind of mystery spoke of an old wives' tale. So for a little while, I will leave this love for my bruised heart can finally heal. For wildflowers can grow in these sandy soils and for rain can pour in a drought.

Home is nowhere that I am without. It all begins with me and I must sow this garden and interweave it with my dreams.

As I flip this page, the names and faces may all change but the book remains the same. When my home is big enough for two, I'll find you to see if we feel some kind of deja-vu.

With lessons learned I'll do things differently.