four walls surround me
my things rest on shelves
and within dresser drawers
my name is etched into the pillows
claw marks on the mattress
clothing littering the floor
specks of my dna live here
it’s been
398 days
10 hours
42 minutes
and 36 seconds
since i unpacked
and still it doesn’t feel like home
my things surrounding me
but they don’t feel like mine
the walls sigh my name
but it doesn’t sound like my name
i am a stranger in this place
a place that is supposed to feel safe
a place where i am supposed to live freely
happily
i long so desperately for a space
where i don’t solely reside within my bedroom
trapped in the confines of my bed
a space where i don’t step quietly
not wanting too much of me to be seen
a space where i can sing and dance freely
where i can etch my truth into the walls
and talk to the skeletons in my closet
a space where i don’t feel my breath is limited
careful you don’t say the wrong thing
because the walls may collapse
because the streets may become all you know
i just want a space of my own
a space where the walls sigh my name
and i can say “yes baby, i’m home”