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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 26, 2017

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Submitted: April 26, 2017



If I said I was from 313 where you could hear desperate cries for help hidden behind wise words and you could see invisible tears falling down faces from a mile away, would you know where I was from?


These aren’t tears, but soon you’ll hear “the realtor will be here shortly Robyn, clean up your room”. Every Sunday for the past 2 months, from the crack of dawn, have been full of getting our house ready to sell to the next ones that are going to take 313 away from me. Enter in and the first thing you see are the freshly painted walls just to appeal to the eyes of the potential buyers. Bright white and tea green walls decorated with beautiful paintings are just a few things that remind me I am home, but not for long. The place that i’ve called home is soon to be long gone.


These aren’t tears, but sleep has become unknown. Bags have become permanent fixtures beneath our eyes. Melatonin screams our names but doesn’t ease any bit of pain. Too much is going on. A homemade meal hasn’t touched the table in months. The smell of fresh rice and beans went from a “typical” to foreign smell in 313. My mom is sad and I can see. She works too damn hard and she’s too damn strong for any man to please. Divorce has become a native language of hers. I just pray that soon she’ll get what she deserves.


These aren’t tears, I promise they couldn’t be because getting attacked by dogs kisses is inevitable once you enter 313. The heat from their breath is a sense of security reminding me that as rough as things may be, it is important to love. The smoothness of their fur soothes the sadness for some time. Their body warmth against my cold skin makes me feel as if i’m not alone. Being next to them gives me a little bit of hope. Hope to carry on. Speaking to my pets “Yes I know, we will be ok. Wherever god takes us, WE will be ok”. 313 is still ours, but not for long. Hey, we love it here. It’s amazing, spacious and everything we could ever ask for. It’s been so long, but this dear home of ours will soon be gone.


These aren’t tears, but sometimes I can’t help but feel alone. Sad and most often cold. This house is so big. I have three siblings but live with one. My dad is another statistic so the feeling of completion is unknown. I’d give anything to be able to show my baby brother what it’s like to grow or to even see my little sister dance in one of her shows. My boyfriend is stationed across the world on a side no one knows. This emptiness has made me sick. Sickness has plagued my body and I can never catch a break. One day it’s chicken pox the next i’ll be throwing up a steak.


These aren’t tears. I am strong. 313 is where I grew. So many memories were made here. I love it in my beautiful home. This is where I thought I belonged. I was wrong. I have faith but maybe they might be tears. Maybe they have begun to fall. I hate feeling apart. It feels like a dagger, straight through my heart. Where i’m from may not be where i’m meant to be, but 313 will always be a huge part of me.


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