11/27/2014

dear nashville,

you never told me what a lonely existence it could be.

i am behind the house at 705; forgotten by those who were dear and annoyed with the ones who inhabit these walls, i find myself chain smoking. you were sunny and bright, with a threat of gray.

i excuse myself in the worst way possible. tears fill my eyes as i pass the faint memories of the past nine months: this street is home to the purple house with a tiny yard sale with the sweet boy from pennsylvania.

almost there, i say to myself. i cross 31 and i am opened up to your rolling hills. almost home i say.

home is a concept you have been slowly teaching me. alone and surrounded, i am yours. you will learn to mind me, and i'll learn to survive you.