Punctuation

My Poison...

Your ocean eyes. 

And your genuine, whole-hearted laugh that accompanied another wise-crack among your friends.

My fair-haired, annihilated opportunity. 

My poison.

Pieces of my memories with you are abandoning me with every step further from home you decide to take. 

And with every brick you are laying for this new foundation, I am left wondering if home is even home to you anymore. 

What is your present definition of home?

Is it a who, a what, a when?

Is it a somewhere in between two or three of those?

I know who you once were...all those meandering years ago. 

I know your favorite color in our joint childhood was blue and that you failed to love anything more than capturing your adventures, framing them in permanent art. 

I can remember your best friends and the people you never took chances with. 

And more than anything else, I remember the warmth I felt in your heart without even holding your hand. 

Without it, the world feels colder sometimes. 

A cold as the world already may be, it feels that much colder. 

Your ocean eyes, now frozen arctic glaciers...impervious to the warmth of sunlight and smiles. 

Your genuine, whole-hearted laugh now for all the wrong reasons while strands of bitterness and darkness.

Everything left inside of you, so weightless...where you are almost only empty. 

I can only hope that you find your own way home,

I can only hope you reexamine the true definition of a home...

or else, in very little time, you will find yourself broken beyond any repair...lost...alone. 

A talking skeleton, 

Completely transparent.

Without any home.