Returning

There's a sadness to walking into a building you once knew. You expect things to be as they were left, but time has passed. Time has passed without you, and it's staggering The feeling knocks you off balance

When you look into a room and see a new chair in the corner, you feel it. The new is sleek lines and fabric The old was paisley, all faded color and torn edges, rough and slumped and you always said "It's got to go!" But here it is, gone, and you miss it You mourn it Because it was a part of the room when you were a part of the room And that chair was a part of your home And you miss home, so much it burns, but you can't be here You can't go back in time

And, worse You wonder if, like that chair, there just isn't a place for you here As if, where the imprint of your presence was, something else came to be Because they couldn't stand the silence And you chose not to stay.

And when you walk through that doorway, all you can do is remember And you regret leaving this place.