Homesick hopes

 

Homesick hopes

live along

my winding roads.

I'm somewhere

I'm not sure I should be,

where I fear I'm alone

sitting in a pool 

of stagnant memory,

thinking

it's a clear river

of possibility.

 

I don't fit in.

I'm an outsider

in my own story.

Just peering

through a window,

watching

the condensation

dripping

to the pool

at my feet.

 

I should be happy,

at the least.

I should be able

to see a future

in my belief,

I should see hope

in my streetside views,

not this rearview mirror

of ghosts that

keep passing through,

a masquerade of a future

so transparent and untrue.

 

But I feel so lost.

I've wandered

so many highways,

seen too many lay-bys

drifting behind me,

so many hopes dashed

in a drive by of my own making.

That maybe the mistake,

is believing that I'm worth saving.