All Mine

I came home from LA, this time, to a house that was empty. The art was gone, save for the few pieces I own, the extra stuff from the kitchen. It was, at last, again, my space and my space only. To get it back, I had to give up someone to hold me when I was tired, someone who swam with me and who was brave when bravery was needed, so that I didn't always have to be. At that this someone, in the end, made me feel more lonely at times than walking into my empty home, and that giving up someone to hold you is a small price to pay for getting back the ability to be you, rather than someone's idea of you, are stories for another time.

For tonight, I walked through the door alone, into an empty apartment, and it was All Mine.