i had this dream last night
i was walking through my grandmother’s house, the one we sold
way back in the day
when the summers burned bright
and life slipped through my fingers in a drunken haze
that new taylor swift song on the radio
but the carpet had been ripped up
and the paintings were destroyed
and i couldn’t find her garden, through the noise
and there were strangers in her walls
there were new shows on the tv
she’d have hated it if she saw, i think
and all i wanted
was the smell of potpourri
the perfect white carpet
and the floral couch in the living room
wanted someone to tell me
it wasn’t all just a memory
hallowed ground no longer my own
in the dream, there were slivers in my feet
and broken ceramic on the floor
they were cutting down the hedges
and pulling out the ferns
and i was sitting in the attic
sweat dripping down my spine
i was fading by the second
flickering fingertips and melting skin
eyes glazed over, watching it crumble
down to sawdust, and cement
the barest skeleton of a home
she’s leaving, now
and i don’t have the heart to watch her go
I really did have a dream like this–it was super weird, and I was pretty messed up over it for quite a few days. I almost never have dreams–or, remember them, anyway. When I remember them, it’s always either absolutely nonsensical, or earth-shattering emotional revelations with absolutely no in-between.