I find it a bit unsettling how

The more familiar a house becomes

The more I begin to fear it.

Perhaps it is because over time

I begin to learn the finer details

Like where the silver wear is kept,
Or where the person split their forehead

On the banister at the bottom of the steps

And their father took them to get stitches

While their mother complained 

About the blood stains on the floor.

I memorize the creaks in the stairs

And learn where not to put my feet

So I can quietly leave,

Undetected in the morning.

I feel haunted in the comfort

Of another one’s home because

The moment I begin to treat it as my own

I start to learn about all the secrets,

The ghosts in the walls

And the past that built the foundation.

I wonder if this is treatable

Or if I’ll live with this homesickness forever.