i am tired of watching
people leave.

i, with my unused passport
tucked into my pocket with hopes
of someday flying away
stand alone
in a crowd at the airport terminal
to wave wet-eyed goodbyes through
dirty glass window panes, goodbye.

have fun, wherever
you are going
this time around. did you know,
the tarmac looks
more beautiful than grass and
sky to me, right now but
it doesn't matter anyway
because i
have only roots and no room
to spread my wings.

i am tired of waiting
to grow up. seventeen years
have taught me nothing about
belonging where placed, blossoming
where planted. life is too short
for things like patience and ergo
i have none,
not today, not
for things like this.

i am tired of wishing
for unhavables. i want to run
outside and be blasted
by the winter air
and London's gentle drizzle, just
to know i'm alive, just
for one cold, wet, glorious second.

and maybe then i could storm
the jet and take out
my passport to be stamped
for the first time in a land
far away, an ocean away, a world away
from sorrow.

but
air traffic control would
stop me, you know, with
tasers and sticks and men in
orange mesh vests. and Security
would question me, of course
and they would never care to hear
my story
that it hurts too much
to be left
behind.