to the people who bought my childhood home,

there are raspberries growing under the living room window,

and a hamster buried in the garden,

and the third stair from the top used to have a stain that looked kind of like a dog,

before we replaced the carpet.

all this is to say,

this place is more mine than it will ever be yours,

and I still walk the rooms in my head before I fall asleep at night,

the scars on my body a road map to every sharp corner.