Where I'm From

I am from the room downstairs
from chords on a Fender guitar.
I am from we’re leaving here
  from a Uhaul truck
  and a new best friend.
I am from old Beatles’ records,
played until they skipped.
I am from broken dishes and screaming,
packed bags and a ruined New Year’s Day,
five times back home,
and a six times broken heart.
I am from six months of silence,
forgiveness,
betrayal,
and a cycle ever-after.

I am from a single rule,
hanging on the wall,
the only thing he asked of me,
and something he returned.
I am from my two best friends,
the only ones to keep my trust,
after many who betrayed it.
I am from nine years of happiness,
broken time again,
and ruined one last time.
I am from lost hope,
a stolen childhood,
and premature maturity,
if ever it existed.