my grandparents’ house. 

I have reoccurring dreams

about being inside your house

but you’re almost never home. 

Where did you go?

And who put a secret staircase

in the room across from yours,

where I used to sleep when I was nine

and stayed in your house?

I can’t enter the room

up front,

I look in and it seems to stretch on past my lifetime. 

Everything else looks the same. 

Last night you were both in the kitchen

making dinner,

everyone running around

like they used to. 

I stood in the kitchen and cried

though I tried not to,

because I used to. 

Your backs were turned to me,

so I know it wasn’t really you,

or maybe I visited your dreams

and in those dreams everything is how it was

so you don’t want to see me missing you. 

I’m bad at facades. 

I took a second to swallow it down

and the party ended;

I went down in the basement to tell

my brothers to get their coats,

we’re going home. 

And that’s when I woke up

and I was still crying. 


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