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If I should ever leave home,
Remind me to forget something behind-
A piece of my childhood
Plays hide and seek
In the folds of curtains,
That now hold traces
Of eyes shrouded in fabric,
Glancing at the world passing by
On the other side.

The city on my passport,
A frantic blur
Of unknown alleyways,
I have long since ceased to discover.
It will acknowledge
One less pair of feet,
That wandered looking for purpose
Through its streets,
But then found it
Somewhere else.

An empty room in the house,
The wooden furniture,
A jungle of memory corpses,
That were buried in cardboard boxes
And packed away.
You can paint over
The blue on the walls.
Seal all cracks that may hide
Traces of my past.
Replace the pictures
In their frames.
And hope that pixels make moments last longer.

Soon, there will be new places,
With walls white,
And beds never slept in,
Cupboards that will yearn for artifacts,
But I’ll forget something behind
Before learning to return.

Home is an umbilical cord;
It nestles into me
And settles into crevices of private thought.
I’ll come back a newborn
Then, hold me close
And coo sleep into my ears
For home is not a continent,
But you.

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