In Portuguese
you describe
the point in your life
when you decided
to free yourself
from ties and commitment,
accountability.

In English
you said, 

“Yes, I’m open.”

In your language,
in your truth,
you come to terms
with your spirit, 
split in two
half existing elsewhere
the other seeking joy, here.

A vagabond has no home.
Potentially aimless,
leaving ruin in some places.
Excitement in others.

A vagabond cannot hold
what I’m asking to be held.

In your language, you proclaim,

“Eu ainda estou levando esta vida.”

Vagabundeando.

I reach for you in my own language.
Your answer is a mixture of 
words I do not understand.

"Come here,"

 I want to say.

Make a home in my chest,
have adventures with me.

You choose something else,
a different life.
A different person.
You choose everything but me.

I am no place for a vagabond.
I may be searching 
but this heart has roots.