You say home is a feeling and I
am a wanderer
looking for a place to

There are empty houses left
when mortgages are not
paid on time

Windows are shattered and walls
are vandalized
by thief and trespassers, taking hearts
and body parts

Mouths are open doors, parched and dry
there’s only air coming in and out
of its hinges

I don’t want to linger like a ghost
to sit
and stay on a corner of your bed like a lampshade
or a table

You are not my permanent address
I am restless
and big and wide and greedy, I want to grow,
like the sky

I am an unmapped territory to be discovered
for an occupant to kiss every inch of my square feet and say,
I am home.