Sitting on bare boards
Splinters finding their way into my skin--
In another new house
Shared with aging grandparents.
This space is not my own
Built to accommodate extra people,
Not a ten-year old girl.
Skeletons of a stranger’s past
Leave a lingering stale scent of cigarettes,
Giving me a dry mouth.
My room was his first.
Green carpet rolls in
Masking baron with poor taste,
Matching a neutral hallway.
I shout a greeting to my four walls
The echo which once replied
Is muffled.
New house. Not home.
Windows invite the sun
To my carpeted box
Rays act as a makeshift bed
As I curl up on a freshly laid floor.