Home?

We kept bumping into each other.

All of us.

Here and there. Now and again.

Everyone knew everyone. Or seemed to know everyone.

Had I stayed on, we all would have known each other.

Don't know if I would be strong enough to have everyone know me.

Judge me. And we all do it all the time.

Don't know if I'd made enough mistakes to want to not make any more.

If I knew all the wrongs to know which ones I liked, and which ones to avoid.

Don't know if I would be open enough to have everyone be a part of my life,

Even if they only meant well.

And even if they did, and I would, it would still be so lonely.

One thing to share sadness, another to be able to erase it.

To replace it with better times.

I don't know if I could have it there.

I don't know if I can have it here, anymore.

I certainly can't in the place that was first home. And home is what I don't know what is anymore.