A New Place

Don’t you just hate it?

Feeling lost in your own home.

How did these hallways bend

and how did these rooms switch?

If I could find that ghost to guide me, maybe it would be okay.

Perhaps even cosy.

Where are my photos

and where is the spot on the couch where she sat comfortably every evening?

Where will I bury her if not in that spot?

Bury her.

It sounds so bad, doesn’t it?

But it’s not, really.

Truly, they are just resting.

And they wouldn’t want all that light in their eyes anyway.

I’d tell her that if I could find her.

But my house is not my own anymore

and she does not walk these halls.

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