the ladder inside, how tiny feet clambered up the wooden rungs,
the windows clouded over with dust.
And I start shaking, only a child could understand
longing like this, I've never been sheltered
like they've sheltered me for all these years.
In the absence of childhood memories,
this house is how I know I was loved.
happiness is somewhere i have been before, a blurry photograph that i have since ignored. i'll carefully adjust the aperture once more until i set the record straight --