Body’s Home
they say its normal for a teenage girl to feel not at home in her body
it’s a great change in scenery
you just have to break it in, adjust to it
i’m not supposed to want to place a welcome mat in front of my feet
or hang up inspirational posters inside my ribs
it’s normal to lock the doors three times before bed
and still feel like it’s wide open
it’s normal to fear a robbery despite having no belongings
because it’s never been home enough to furnish
it’s normal for trespassers to come in without asking
that’s the difference between a trespasser and a guest
i’ve always taken care of my home
but most days i don’t live it
i pay water and electricity
but i don’t use it
that doesn’t mean it’s never been used though
my house has been lived in
squatters have made their way in and out
leaving piles of trash large enough to be furniture
and i’ve tried to sit on that left behind garbage couch
grab a blanket and turn on the tv
get cozy in my house
but my house don’t feel like home
i bought it
but i was evicted before i got the chance to ever feel like it was a place i could live
my house provides shelter
it’s a necessity
just a thing i need in order to survive
it doesn’t need to feel comfortable
i just need a roof over my head
a protection for now
but does it protect me if i don’t feel safe?
cause i’ve spent all that i have on security
i placed bouncers at my front door to keep people out
i’ve taught them to push and push
but i still feel heavy breaths on the back of my neck
foreign arms around my waist
security cameras can’t catch that
maybe it’s because i recognize intrusion like the back of my hand
like broken doors feel like sweaty palms pressing on my shoulders
maybe it’s because i don’t know what’s it's like to be in a room shut
without the feeling of my arms being held down
maybe it’s because the last time i could run freely up and down the stairs i was six years old
i was still comfortable enough to lay my barbie dolls out on my carpet
it’s been over a decade since they were stolen from me
and it’s been that long since i could remember it
i’m remembering why my body doesn’t feel like home
why it always felt like someone was pounding on my front door when all they said was hello
why i left scars on my front porch
i defaced my own property because someone else started it before me
i decided the moment my home was taken from me that nobody else deserved to live in it
not even myself
i decided that it’s walls were too worn down to be painted over
that it’s windows were far too shattered to close for anyone else
so i didn’t put it up for sale
instead i left it behind
and for the first time in years i’m revisiting my abandoned home
my six year old body
i didn’t realize that it had been flooded with the memories i chose to leave behind
but whether i like it or not my brains decided it’s time to walk back inside my skull
i’ve been told to clean out the rooms, work on remodeling
learn to love my home
but this house has never felt like home
and i’m not sure it ever will