I Forgot How to Come Home

I used to
run back
to you.

Every crack
in the road
was a memory
we stepped over.

But now
it’s all
blur.

The streets
don’t recognize me.
The doors
don’t wait open.

Even my shadow
walks slower.

I forgot
how to come home.

Not just the way
the feeling.
The heart of it.

The smell
of your voice.
The sound
of your quiet.

Gone.
Or maybe
hidden.
Like keys
you threw
into the sea
after saying
“Stay.”

You never meant
forever.

But I believed.

And now
I wander
like a question
without a mark.

Still breathing.
Still hoping.
Still
not home.