I walked out the door
too many years ago
to remember any of the finer details of that day
I know my bags were filled
with scraps of anger
still sharp enough to cause a paper cut on my hands
I had empty pockets and worn shoes
My ears ringing from your scorn
The Greyhound ticket firmly clenched in my teeth
I was homesick
for a home I never knew
Jamey Boelhower is a writer and teacher in a public school. His writing often reflects his own life experiences as well as personal observations of the world around us. He is also a husband and father of six children.
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