[today]Mar 20th, 2007 9:09:20 pm - Subscribe

Every piece of me
that goes into this suitcase -
folded neatly;
screaming quietly:
"twenty-one days!" -
it tears a hole.

Everything that I am
is here;
is you.
Home doesn't travel well
at all.

How can I leave?
How can I fly away?

I'll go, and I won't cry.
But every step I take
while far away
will bring me a step closer to home,
and every moment
a little nearer to it being over.

[I am]dreading the moment I leave.
[inspiration]I hate travelling.