i left behind
a version of me
that night,
at the concert,
on that arena floor --
lighter,
louder,
happier,
and still dancing
in a city
i don't live in.

i never lived there,
but i miss it
like it was home.
like i left something behind --
a version of me
still bundled up
in those hotel sheets,
in the merch line,
and in the way we laughed
way 
too loud
under those
neon blue signs.

...

it was just a weekend,
but the city held me
like it knew me.
like it didn't care
where i had flown from
as long as i sang
with everything
i had.

...

now im home.
but im not all here,
i left a version of myself
on that floor
of that arena,
still glowing.
still screaming.
still full
of everything
i want to feel again.

...

i left a piece of myself
in a city
i don't live in.
and some nights,
it feels like that version
of me
had it better --
louder laughter,
lighter shoulders,
less worry,
a heartbeat
in sync
with the music
she lives for.

...

and i wonder
if she's still
out there somewhere,
dancing along
to the beat.

make the art you search for
the kind of art
you never find
but always feel.

...

the kind that
holds your hurt
without asking a million times,
"why?"
the kind that feels
like being seen.

...

and maybe it's not out there
because it's waiting
for you
to create it.

i met you
on a quiet tuesday,
in the soft sunlight 
of a small beach café.
you looked bored --
so i walked over,
and we got to talking.

...

that same day,
two years later --
i walked back
into that café.
on a quiet tuesday.
in the same soft sunlight.
i ordered the same drink.

...

and i saw you,
from afar.
i didn't dare go over.
you were just bored.
and i was never
enough
to cure that alone.

you're in my life
everywhere i go.
it's like you've been
permanently placed --
as if someone
put you there
to stay
forever.

...

and i hate
that i can't escape you.
you hurt me.
so why are you
still everywhere
i go?..

there are no sides in this --
im telling you.
im not on her side,
im not on yours,
im not even on mine.
things happen
you just have to find
an outlet --
a way to feel
without yelling
in eachothers faces.

my room --
it's away from the people,
the anxiety, 
the problems,
my grades,
my friends,
my co-workers --
it's just my room.
my sanctuary.

...

i can move things around
whenever i please,
shift the space
to make it more me.
it's mine.
and its peace.
it's my sanctuary.