I thought home was a person
who called me by a nickname
and promised to stay until the end of time.
I thought home was a seat in a friend group
where we laughed at inside jokes.
I thought home was a city
I’m leaving in three days.
turns out
people leave,
friendships drop you for a bad vibe,
and cities drift away through airplane windows.
you can’t build a house out of people
who are already looking for the exit