i realise how quickly my mind takes to this place.
would you expect the way back home to hurt this much?
— unclawing. just a sore-throated dawning, to live in your larynx, lucid, for two-and-a-half weeks —
that monotony is birthed of routine. of comfort.
would you expect to go home and find the way back grown?
— unchanged. just a bruise you cannot place. dead skin unearthed from your thumb. the hangnail you
pick for four days —
that pain can only persist in comfort. in love.
would you expect your scent to be eaten off you, back home?
— unrepentant. just the sting in your ear every time you put on headphones, to will away until you
accommodate it enough to ignore —
that love provides only when you know you don’t have it.
the way back home will hurt, because it loves you.
By Yuvana Sahi
Image credits: Farnaz Damnabi (Women Street Photography)