I find it a bit unsettling how
The more familiar a house becomes
The more I begin to fear it.
Perhaps it is because over time
I begin to learn the finer details
Like where the silver wear is kept,
Or where the person split their forehead
On the banister at the bottom of the steps
And their father took them to get stitches
While their mother complained
About the blood stains on the floor.
I memorize the creaks in the stairs
And learn where not to put my feet
So I can quietly leave,
Undetected in the morning.
I feel haunted in the comfort
Of another one’s home because
The moment I begin to treat it as my own
I start to learn about all the secrets,
The ghosts in the walls
And the past that built the foundation.
I wonder if this is treatable
Or if I’ll live with this homesickness forever.