My body cries for a home that does not exist.

Neither lost nor found.

Only formed by thought, dream, and hope.

As fragile as the thread that weaves it.

As real as what might have been in another life.

Just out of reach.

***

I mourn for the happy memories that never happened.

Vibrant trips and gatherings that could have made my life full.

Left to contend with a broken reality.

Where life was neither kind or beautiful.

Raised to always expect the worst and never the best.

For luck has gone to the other version of me instead of the Here and Now.

***

I pine for the community I might have had.

Friends that might have been my unwavering support.

A loved one that would have my back.

Parents that would never have taught me to doubt.

Maybe then I would not have become like I am today.

Left without a guide.

***

It could be the holiday blues but the pain is real.

Hope for the future slipping through my fingers like fine gold dust.

Fear coursing through my veins in proportion with my blood.

I cannot, should not, expect such a radical change when I can actively see the bars of the cage.

Separated by the walls of reality, all I know is one truth.

Where I stand has never been home.