Learning.

I once wrote a love song

About a poem on the internet

That warned me

Not to make homes

Out of humans.

I wrote

That I am so new to this world

Of humans and homes

But I have laid my head to rest

Within valleys of ribs

And I have stored everything I love

In someone else’s hands

And I have felt nothing warmer

Than coming home

Without leaving

At all.

Well.

What I did not realize

Is the author never warned me

This could not be done-

And I don’t have to read

Volumes of human history

Or study the ever-changing maps

To remember what humans do best

what humans have down to an art

what humans do

Is that

They leave.