it's hard living in a house in which
you're never welcome.
watching the foundations for a new family
being cemented into the ground
whilst you're still sat among
the burning embers of the last one, alone.
it's hard knowing that you're living
in a time before all of this,
but at the same time embracing
the other side of it.
one half smouldering and the other
a house by the sea, waves crashing, birds singing.
split into two; two sides, two families,
neither the one you remember.