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Leaving Home

I know it is time. I see you want a new resident. I can see how you look at me, the “Just Friends” look. I get it, really. You don’t have to try to explain, cause you suck with words. I’ll pack up my clothes, and my hair brush, and my collection of Indie Rock CD’s that we used to dance to together. I’ll pack it all in my brand new duffle bag, because I never thought I would have to leave. I sling the bag over my shoulder and climb up the wall to the hole at the top. I climb the long journey up your esophagus, and hot tear slide down my cheeks. I am such a baby, a dramatic weirdo. I make it all the way to your tongue, and I walk slowly to your teeth, which seem a mile away. I jump off your tongue and climb through your teeth. I push through your amazing lips, saying a silent good-bye to them. Deep inside me, I pray you’ll see how lost you are without me and swallow me whole again. I will miss my old home, inside your heart. But now I must leave, and I will go as strongly as I can.



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This article has 2 comments. Post your own!

Adam-M. said...
Jun. 24, 2011 at 9:19 pm:
i read your comment so i did. this is a very interesting way to describe a breakup.
 
Adam-M. replied...
Jun. 26, 2011 at 12:25 am :
(and i like it)
 
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