Spaces become Places

In a few days

All of my traces will be erased from this room

It will never be Mine again

Isn’t that a scary thought

That once I leave this room

I will have nothing to call mine

Alone

Mine

Not anybody’s place

But mine

I won’t have that

All I will have is empty bookshelves and cup stains from

Long gone teas

Not a trace or just a trace

No longer a semblance of me there

You won’t hear the rapid typing of midnight poetry

Or the laughs from stories in the early hours of the morning

Not in this room

And for a bit

You won’t even hear that in my new room

Because I’m never comfortable in a new place with new people

Until at least two weeks

So for two weeks

I will be homeless

Nothing but my body is mine

But it might not be so bad

Maybe the adjustment period

Will be….shorter

I know it will seem shorter when i get there

Or when i get past it

It will seem almost nonexistent

That’s okay

I’m okay with that

I think

I guess I’m just hurting,

knowing that this room and its occupants

won’t even miss me

Soon my cup stains will be covered

my empty closet space filled

my bookshelves replaced with “more shoe space”

But it’s okay

Goodbye’s are always hard especially when the space you are in is not your own,

But neither is the one you're supposed to occupy now

It’ll be okay

I am still mine

And that’s okay

All I can take anywhere is my body

The empty space will soon not call my name

and that might be okay.