When did going back home start to feel like a vacation in the past?
I can see memories playing out in front of me again everywhere I go, my first kiss under the streetlight up the road from my mother's house, running stairs during volleyball practice by the middle school entrance,
holding your hand for the first time in the car as we pulled up to the intersection by the diner, how it turned to you screaming at me from the driver's seat when I asked you not to text and drive in our new car years later,
the way that turned into a breakup and an eight-hour drive back to our apartment so you could pack up your life and end up right back where we started.
I could never explain to you the mixed feelings Ohio was blending together for me, but they've settled since you left.
The past should stay where it belongs, and so should I.