Older Chests

Older chests reveal themselves, like a crack in a wall
Starting small, and grow in time. And we all seem to

need the help of someone else, to mend that shelf
of too many books.

Its odd, feeling stuck between two places you call home. This bedroom was my safe haven--now it feels like i'm

floating amidst boxes that will never be fully unpacked. Where do I belong? Oh, I'm just overanalyzing again... But

who do you run to at 3:14 am when the world has gone to bed? Who do you talk to when you can't seem to

expel any words from your frustrated mouth? You lie awake until your eyelids can't possibly exert any

more flutters, you delve into music that lets your brain rest for a moment. You let go. Maybe the one thing I

have yet to learn how to do in my eighteen years of living is to simply--let go. I've spent years of my life holding

onto baggage I can't seem to unpack, just like the luggage filled room that is strewn out in front of me. Why?

I need to find space to put everything.

I need to find a release--and I think I'm beginning to conceptualize it.