The House

I started to bleed the summer she left

I still remember that day,

in her bathroom,

the one we were all afraid of,

the one that took lives.

I wonder if that's why she never came back.

I was a woman now,

and she had done her job.

I was the same as her,

the last of the litter,

the end of the line,

nine

of

nine.

We waited until the end of summer

to announce her departure,

in the dining room

of The house

that changed everyone.

The house that broke us,

The house that woke us,

The house that let us drown.

I helped pack the boxes

sealed them

like my mouth.

and now we speak only in riddles

of The house that tore us down.