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haunted houses [poem]

i’m trying to explain
that i know ghosts aren’t real
but this house reeks of them,
all the same
people crushed by the goddamn inevitability
of screaming crying turn your voice up because apparently you need to be louder all the time
and yes that’s going to get etched into the walls
and they’ll repeat that back in some sick form of muscle memory
chocolate box cottage that tastes of ash because there’s been a thousand small fires and not one of them ever burnt away the cruelty
and it echoes echoes echoes and you’re wondering why you can’t sleep at night?
when there are these careful whisper campaigns being launched against you
fuck – i’m sorry but these floorboards creak like breaking bones
and i’m scraping up the shards of the plate from the floor and yes, the stain looks like blood
darling i am trying to be gentle in a house that is trying to rip me to shreds
so excuse my tone when i ask you if we can have this discussion outside
i can’t breathe and i’m being eaten alive and every other excuse there is for feeling sad
i hope to god the foundations are weak and we sink into the mud
i’m trying to explain
that i know ghosts aren’t real
but this house is making ghosts of us,
all the same.

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