The Cost

A Poem

Photo by Helena Yankovska on Unsplash

there is a meditative hum
of tires on gravel.
clouds hang suspended
right above me.

the place
more my origin
than my home
inches closer.

outside the city limits
I fix my affectation
a falsely sanguine smile
steadies itself on my mouth.

before foot crosses threshold
I tear from my being those things
I am not permitted to be

and place them in a box
in the bushes for safekeeping.

then I ring the doorbell

and wait
to be loved in pieces.