Sour Milk

My old middle school still smells the same
Rotten milk from the time that kid left his hot chocolate in his locker for too long
Even though it’s smaller
Even though I’m not there
Life moves on when you’re not around to watch it happen
It takes four times
For me to feel okay going somewhere
Four times
To recognize where to put my bag and where the trash can is
I’m lucky
I’m so friggen lucky
That I don’t know how to pack my things very well
That I know what my mom’s blueberry muffins smell like
And when the wind hits the side of my house I don’t shiver
I’m so friggen lucky
So then why do I feel caged in my room with the green shag carpet
And exposed anywhere else
Why do I rub my cheek against the side of my mask for comfort in my new high school
That I never got to know properly
And now I’m leaving
Why do I always feel like I’m forgetting something every time I pull out of the driveway
If this isn’t what safety is
Then what is it?
Sometimes I wonder if I should be paying my mom
For the smell of her baking in the oven
I’ve only known one home because I’m so friggen lucky
And yet I wonder if I can even call it mine
I’ve shaken the walls one too many times not to wonder if they’ll just fall down on me
And I’ll deserve it
But I’m grateful
Because I have to be
Because next year I’ll be alone in a dorm listening to linoleum and the sound of my roommate snoring
And probably crying myself to sleep
While I miss a place like this
A place that will still be standing
Buffeted by the wind
And aching with the memory of me
I’m so friggen lucky
That I got to spend so much time there
That my essence steeped into the hardwood floor
Like that rancid milk hallway
And the high school that never stopped feeling new
They will move on without me watching
Someone new will make themselves comfortable