I need to dye my hair
everyday I
look in the mirror and say that
to my brown eyes
maybe they are hazel
the green and grey sinks into the brown
I need to see the world
to run free
to breathe the cold air
to see snow fall
somewhere that isn't here

Home is where the heart is they say
I think that
as I sit in my room
fan full blast
the cold air shakes my skin
The sound of a distant train

Home is where the fucking heart is
too bad
my heart isn't here

A plane flys overhead
low and loud
I can hear the turbines
I wish I could run out of here
and go to find my heart.

If it had a phone
I would call it
and leave a billion different messages
hoping it would call back
but I have a feeling that
the heart must be hunted for

If only I knew how.

I need to dye my hair
I look into the mirror
there are lines in my face
they don’t exist.

I only wish that
I had some idea of what to do
and how to squash the wanderlust in my heart
but I know I cant

an infant can’t tame a lion.