Like a giant forced into
a home meant for an ant,
grown too big for Brooklyn.
And while I must reject
some aspects of my home,
I must learn to hug both
the ugly and the beautiful.
I must learn to hug the steel
of the Williamsburg bridge.
I must learn to hug the depression
that’s baked into my apartment walls.
I must learn to hug my ability
to breathe in the cleansing air of
I must learn to hug the pain that comes
from walking on broken pieces of shattered pride.
I must learn to hug the laughs that bounce around my stomach
and hug the warmth that radiates off of selfless acts.
But what I must truly embrace with open arms
is the imperfectness of my orange bricked home
because in the end, only those who reside here can see
the love that illuminates in the dark.