Once you have gone back to a place enough times, it no longer feels like home

I wear you out like words,
and can't help but notice that
your name feels the same,
resting on the tip of my tongue
as your palm feels against the
back of my neck, moving upwards
until the shapes of the letters run into
and over each other, and I remember
that once you have gone back
 to a place enough times,
it no longer feels like home.