I sat alone in this house for a month
haunted by millions of ghosts
in the walls, in the floors,
in all of my draws
I sat alone in this house afraid
dreading the last call of the night
where all would leave and I remain
alone

I sat in this house longing
for the constant company I once had
and craved the sounds of home
yet I forget that home
is the sounds of yelling and power and
all of the things that make me want to be small

I sat in this house free
walking around in nothing but ******
not trapped in my room fighting hopelessness
trying to will myself into doing something
anything
hoping the darkness doesn’t win

you can’t be bad for a month
she screams at me, for I used all the towels
and didn’t wash them
because sadness held me down and even
breathing was hard once the people left
and the ghosts remain

I fear for the paradox
if I am unable to be alone
yet perish when they return
where do I thrive
where do I live without these
rocks that have made my ribcage their home
pulling my chest closer and closer to the floor
and begging stagnation to stay

if I am unable to be alone yet
crave blood when they return
where do I live
for here is not living


this is not a home
this is a house plagued by ghosts
some of which with heartbeats
some of which smell like honey and flowers
sickly and sweet

this is not a home
this is a house plagued by
ghosts
and one of those ghosts
is me