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.