If I had known that
when I flipped my roommate off
with a smug smile instead
of a hug before spring break
that I wouldn’t ever hug her again,
I would’ve told her that I was proud of her
and that she showed me
the safest place I had ever had
that I had run to her and she kept me loved
and hidden
and learning
I would’ve breathed deeper into the ramen crusted air and her dirty
laundry clad shoulder because the dryer broke three
days before we left
to go home
home?
I
was / left / was kicked out of / lost / was robbed of
home.
I would’ve learned to knit with my
grandmother instead of tugging
on my mom’s sleeve and begging
to leave because I was bored of old, old
couches and clothes and music and clouds of minds left
in the years before me
memories of wars and people I’ve never known
I would’ve taken
a moment to learn their names to tell
them to the kids I might never have a chance to have
I would’ve written down her red sauce recipe
even though I never liked it
I would’ve run free and
breathed.
without a beast taking time from
seniors,
ours and the kids who
will never get the chance to be
one again.
I like to think that
I would’ve.
Who knows.