You were my home.
The town I went from being a sad kid with no friends to a happy kid with a group of them.
Hand in hand we’d wander the streets aimlessly, filling the sleepy town with screams of joy.
There wasn’t a life outside of you for me,
nor was I even thinking of one
You were where my friends were
Where my family was
I could navigate you with my eyes closed
You were the main scene in my growing up,
but now you’re just a town.
The little apartment I grew up in is probably occupied by someone else now
Filled by unfamiliar laughter
if there’s laughter at all
My Nana’s and my uncle’s spirits wander those halls,
but I’m not there to feel them
If they’re even there at all
I’m not there
I haven’t been there in years
Do you remember me?
Sometimes I forget you,
but then the memories of you wash over me at the quietest of hours
I’ve left behind very little of me,
but you see me in the face of my two high school friends that still live there
You see me in the stones I’ve turned at the local lake
You see me in the dent I left at our local restaurant when I was learning to drive – unless they’ve since fixed it
I don’t know you
and you don’t know me anymore
We’re both ghosts in each other’s history,