You Could Practically Hear the Clicking Sound: Moving Out of the 'rents

The couch by the dove
covered with almost-finished errands,
promises I made when I thought I'd
have more time.

The days spun by like the Wheel of Fortune,
you could practically hear the clicking sound
as, living in two cities, my nerves frayed
like dental floss.

Plans for goodbye rituals, chucked out
like Starbucks mugs missing trash cans,
daily affirmations lost sorting through
string after string of broken lights.

So, with clothes mountained on the floor
in front of my bed, I note that
my suitcase is never empty for long,
the stress is always equal,

but it is different leaving a place
you know you can come back to,
even if its a long dark hour away

on a highway you never hoped to know so well.