The truth is
I left because I couldn't breathe
in this place where we have judgment instead of oxygen
prejudices that tighten my throat
the sour smell of hatred
the bile I choke back
as I watch, scared,
not for my life,
the lives of people
whose lives are no less than mine

I guess you don't smell it this way
you smell thunderstorms
cheap beer, football
red dirt, fast food
sweet like home

We don't breathe the same air,
you and I,
through no fault of our own
your home is the place where I grew up
your oxygen is my enemy

I can't breathe in my parents' house
they don't know that
they quit checking
when they unplugged the baby monitor

Ironic, isn't it?
your roots in my soil
and my feet on top
running away from here

I want to breathe
so I'm leaving without looking back
and I hope I can breathe
wherever I go

I thought about going somewhere
in the mountains
where I spent last summer
there's too much oxygen there
it'll make me pass out
and I will be alone
with no one to save me

So I'm going away
I won't stop until I smell home
What will that smell like?
Freedom, hopefully
Thought, independence, smog
Probably pot smoke as well
Which I will tolerate
Because it smells nothing
like the wind in this place

All those things I hope
this, however, I know as fact
Home, wherever it is,
will smell like you
I wish you could be there with me
You won't
Who would leave home
when they've already found it

So I'm keeping your shirt
taking it with me
breathing you
to remind me
that I will be okay

but that shirt smells
vaguely like beer and tacos
i will throw it away
in doing so
I will lose what i had left of you
that too will be okay

I had to leave for myself
nothing to do with you
you were simply collateral
For this, nothing else, I am sorry