breakfast

i cooked breakfast.
i rolled out of bed,
planting both feet soundly
on the ground,
sighing before i let the
warmth escape from the sheets.
i knew what was coming.
i knew that once i stepped out of my
comfort
i would be walking towards
a day of
confusing explanations
and annoying emotions.
i would look out the window,
one,
two,
three times hoping
to see a familiar bird,
something to make my home feel warm
again.
i would sip on my vanilla chai,
and wonder where
i was supposed to plant my feet next.
when is the next time
in life
when i have to drag myself
out of bed,
and place my soul
somewhere unfamiliar,
for the sake of finding home.