home poem

when i sit in your new house
i miss the old house
the eggshell walls
the dent where the yoyo hit when we were home alone and fighting
the pencil drawing we placed too high on the wall
an attempt to hide the evidence so obvious,
raising immediate questions
the giant fireplace where so many moments were captured together
the only separation of the living and dining rooms
the piles of mail on the kitchen counter
the breakfast nook we stopped sitting at
your new house is pure white
plain and characterless
and you're different too
constantly wiping down counters and washing dishes you didn't use
nervous questions and angry explosions
pretending to be happy
and now
i don't want to be near you or your new house

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