someday in Saigon

people say it is strange, to be from Saigon and still have no home. as if my heart was forgotten somewhere between all these crowded streets, as if my homesickness had nowhere left to be sent.

people say it is sad, a child of Saigon living like a guest who stayed too long, sleeping inside another person’s dream. i was born here, yet every time i move, it feels like i am burying a part of myself. no place has ever held me past a rainy season.

people say it is strange, to live in the middle of the city and still feel more alone than anyone. the headlights are bright, but they never light up a way back for me.

people say it is sad, to love this city so much when it never opens its arms. it only watches quietly as i lose pieces of myself.

people say it is pitiful, a Saigonese living like everything is borrowed, mending each day with old memories and dreams that have no address.

people say, hang in there, things will get better someday… but someday in Saigon can be just another promise no one keeps.