If home is where you hang your hat
Then there must be a million people with veils draped on their crowns Thin wisps of memories
Of memories
Of memories
Just a memory
If home is where the heart is...
I came from a broken home No broken bones
But broken
Cracked apart like leather Too worn out
Too used up
Too much love given, and not enough accepted So my home is broken
Each piece has its own lock and key
That I give for free
One person at a time
I’m
Like Oprah on Christmas
You get a key! And You get a key! And You get a key!
Like sacred bread, there’s an endless supply
I
Love giving those keys
Strip tease but no sex
Because there’s always more locks to keep me safe
As far as I can tell there’s no master key
I’ve looked
And looked
And looked
But don’t touch because sometimes
Open arms feel more like sinkholes
Tight hugs, more like traps
And sometimes I’d rather be in the traps I know than the ones I don’t So I lock up before I leave the house
Safe and hidden within these walls
With so many doors, I forget where I live
Home feels spread thin
Thin wisps of memories
Of memories
Of memories
Just a memory
Of where I’ve hung my hats
There were times I thought I’d found it
That fabled master key
Because they opened more than one
But never all

That’s too much power for one key to hold Power I’m not willing to give to any one person So I’ve made homes in hearts of strangers One small piece with one small key
Air bnb
For one night only
It’s a great place to visit
Never a place to stay
And I never liked to wear hats anyway
And I wonder about this master key
This holy grail of trust
Does it exist?
And if it does
Will I die with it covered in rust?