suitcase soul.

some stay,
or so I’ve heard.
and they’re happy.

some are born to run,
or so I’ve heard.
I didn’t think
I was one.

but maybe I’ve always
known-

there’s something
about a suitcase.

about not being able
to stay too long.

coming and going,
perhaps returning. perhaps.
but being able to choose?

is freedom.

my suitcase
is screaming.

made (come with me).

Just another mess of words to express my restlessness.

made (come with me)

I wasn’t made for staying-

for laying
in the same bed each night,
greeting the light
of a new day
the same way.
I wasn’t made for here-
for year after year
of predictability,
of stability.
I wasn’t made for plans-
For knowing tomorrow’s
sorrows
in advance.

I was made for chance-
for surprises, guesses,
and the stresses
that accompany uncertainty.

Were you made for
coming with me?