Suitcase

The suitcase is sitting across the room beneath a strand of Christmas lights
It seems as much as I try to build a home I'm always just a visitor
Maybe a lifetime of rented houses taught me to never take anything as permanence
But distance forces attachment from my hands like it's a glory I will never taste
Passing through folded clothes like the places in my heart left untouched
It's better this way
I tell myself and half believe it but all I want is somewhere warm to call home
I'm done with planes and staring out moving windows and feeling half empty
And mostly the goodbyes
Because even hellos are tainted by their bitterness and I can't arrive without a return ticket
And all I want to do is unpack this suitcase
And unravel all the tightly wound clothes like those parts of me but I'm not done
There's too much to see and I can't see it all
So I'll be a nomadic lonely satellite until this suitcase bursts and my heart overflows and I fall back into you
Until I figure out where home is supposed to be