in the grey, in the rain, in the
pockets where I shove my hands,
nothing is left but a nickel and one more chance
on the front porch, looking in that door

my hair mats to my brow
my coat clings to my skin
the sound is almost drowned
out by the wind
still, I hear it now:

 

“you should leave

you really need to go

you oughtn’t be here

leave me alone

 

I can’t let you stay

just go home

you don’t belong here

please, no…”

 

fireplace, candlelit space,
books on shelves and wine in sturdy glass,
boy at home, freely roams
touching everything nice and slow
safe from the storm,
while I watch through the window

my hair mats to my brow
my coat clings to my skin
still I hear my voice
call out again,
coming clearer now,

 

“you should leave

you really need to go

you oughtn’t be here

leave me alone

 

I can’t let you stay

just go home

you don’t belong here

please, no…

 

 

get out of my heart!

get out of my mind!

you’re not really welcome

there is no good time!

 

I can’t let you stay

just go home!

you don’t belong here

please… no”