step inside the house,
months after yr last visit,
but it’s no longer a home.
her only company
is the tv blaring lifetime
movies or alternative music.
you used to sit
in yr room on the internet,
block it all out
and smoke a bowl.
yr sister would
play with her friends,
loudly knock on
yr door until you’d
come out frustrated.
the vodka you used
to steal shots from still
sits in the cabinet where
it always sat.
the room reeks of
cats’ urine and the
couch and the carpet
display their hair.
the dog anxiously
scratches at himself,
removing clump after
clump of fluff from
his bare red back.
you think of the times
she wandered in
drunk and slept with
her obnoxious boyfriend;
the times her and yr
sister would scream at
each other over nothing;
the times she slept
till well into the afternoon
only to wake up with a moan,
sorry to be alive.
the love is gone
and the peace was never there.
home is not a place;
home is inside of you.
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