Poem: Moving Out

It’s almost like it didn’t even happen

Only segments of thoughts and nothing concrete —

I can’t tell you a memory, I can only explain how it feels

It’s hazy like smoke stinging my eyes at the lake in August

The balmy heat sticking to my skin

Eating trail mix when I’m sweaty

Touching the person in front of you and

Saying ‘goodbye’ to the person beside you

I took off the rose-coloured glasses because I didn’t need them anymore;

They were foggy, anyway.

And when I looked in the mirror I remembered,

“Oh, it’s you.”

The sky is turning pink not from embarrassment but because it’s going to rain

In the morning when I’ll wake up and notice


My curtains are stained with red wine.

Well, that’s not going to come out

But who really cares; people stain things on purpose

Send me your favourite song and I’ll listen to it every day

Until it’s my own vibrato

My love language is walking to the grocery store when I don’t need groceries

I threw out all the lidless Tupperware because it’s useless

And I feel guilty for calling it useless.

“It’s so hard to write about yourself,” I agreed.

I only want to write about other people

But I’ll wake up with myself for the rest of my life

So, I should give it a good shot.

This place was once filled with everyone I love laughing and

Now it’s like I’m showing up to a party and

Scanning the crowd for a face or a laugh that I recognize better than my own

To sink into like that old brown couch

A house is only four walls but

If the walls could talk they would bark or scream and tell us to go to bed

Or maybe they would be cool walls and tell us to keep going,

‘Come on, you’re only 22.

I know you’re tired but this is a night you’ll want to talk about tomorrow.’

And the next day

Until it settles into the seamless streams of nights that become tomorrows.

We’re not going on a trip anymore

It’s a suitcase that will never fully get unpacked

To a new set of four walls that will listen to our stories and watch us happen.