You 

Here

we are each other’s 

only friend. 

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OZ602

On the plane

I kept forgetting 

whether I was coming or going;

leaving or returning.

Whether each passing minute 

was bringing me closer to home 

or further away from it.

I’m being stretched thin 

over that pixilated yellow line 

drawn across oceans and islands 

I never really depart

I never really arrive 

I am always in between.

Home 

Something about being here 

makes me want to vomit

makes me want to cry 

makes me want to run 

makes me afraid 

makes me feel like a failure 

makes me want to turn back time

and never leave 

makes me want to turn back time

and never come 

Expat

To leave everyone I love

and all that is familiar

for a new unknown 

is an adventure

but to stay there

not having found anything better

than the joy of loving 

and being loved 

is just madness. 

Homesick

Homes are like husbands; 

you can only have one at a time. 

And when you leave one for another,

the familiarity of the former – 

once a great comfort –

becomes sickening and strange.