melancholy

when i was a little girl
my parents would leave me home,
alone.
my freedom, my giddy giddy time
alone.
and i grew on that feeling of being
alone.
and i'd seek some space to myself,
alone.
and as i grew, i cherished my time,
alone.
and nothing pleased me more than my company,
alone.

but sometimes, in the later hours of being alone,
i would sneak into their closet and burrow my face
in the smooth racks of hanging clothes
and breathe in the sweet sweet scent
of my mother, of my father, and there i would be,
surrounded.