the divorce

sent me back to my parents

house

and they never

changed my room

and as i sat on my bed

and viewed the posters

i had put up

when i was fourteen

i saw how far i have come

and how far i have fallen

and how in-between

and the pans

in the kitchen

were the same

and the furniture

was the same

but

i was no longer the same

i left this house

a healthy, engaged

young man

i came back

a divorced, alcoholic

adult

and

when they gave me

my own key

i cried as i turned it

because

the key they gave me

still fit the lock,

but the house no longer

felt like home