Home

Home must be where the heart is?

No, or—

Home must be where A heart is,

enclosed in the curvature of rib cages.

Two of them, that’s the home.

No.

Home is where the soul is.

Home must be where you go,

once you’re discharged from the hospital.

Home just might be who you thought you were,

before being admitted.

In your stay you may have even outgrown it.

You never know, you might have shed the layers

of that part of yourself during your stay.

Burned the old home to the ground,

pissed on its ashes behind your vision and tears.

Regret, remorse, wasted time.

Home just might be

who you were always meant to be,

who you always wanted to be,

but never actually were,

never admitted you wanted,

the chance you never gave to yourself; the chance

to be a happy home for yourself.

Where the thoughts matched the actions,

and the feeling of peace trailed behind.