The Guest

I lost you somewhere, It's happened before. Was only just a moment ago I found you this time. You always flee the scene, though I never know quite when. I thought I had you figured out, knew how to catch you in flight. How to chain you for good. Some can run free and be trusted to return, but you are not them. You are predictably unpredictable. As if this isn't your home. You are merely a guest who can't seem to get comfortable. Who never settles in. Bags packed and always in hand, coat on, ready for departure. Others perceive this as strength, a show of control. At a glance they view you as mysterious and somewhat unattainable, as if you on top of your game. You try to believe them. You try to see what they see when you look in the mirror. You even try to live it out for a while. In time however, you always slip. We both know what you are. You are afraid. You are driven by fear and insecurity. Though, at times, they ride in the back seat while you take the wheel, they are always there. Giving directions, guiding you right back to where they want you. Away. I've learned to enjoy your visits for what they are. Brief spans of time in which you attempt to get comfortable and remain. Some stays are longer than others, but all will indefinitely come to an end. Of this I can be sure, if nothing else. I'll see you next time.