This is the room that I grew up in

The stench of old smoke, dirty laundry, and stale blood still hang heavily in the air

Glimmering dust motes gave it an ill-fitting celestial glow

Creaking bed springs and stalwart punches still resonate from the walls

-

The walls that have seen so many things, kept so many secrets, hidden so many lies

The walls, which have been my confidant through years of hardships

The walls, with their water stains and peeling paint, their bullet holes

Their battle wounds

-

The ceiling which sighs and sags with age

Succumbing to years of water damage

The backbone of the room bending far too much

I fear that it will

Snap

And crush me

-

The jagged teeth of the windows

Chew at the occasional leaf that blows in

Ripping the tender membrane to shreds

Like it’s done to my flesh innumerable times

-

The floors moan and groan

A pitiful lament, a sorrowful cry

With gaping mouths where boards should be

Ready to swallow me into the darkness

-

The cheap wooden door hangs by only one hinge

And I can only blame myself

For slamming it shut too hard too many times

-

This is the room that I grew up in

The single space to contain years of screams

The place where I condemned myself to my anguish

The place where my soul rotted and decayed

-

This was the room that I had stayed in

Past tense, being key.