I remember how I felt when I was in that space.
The sun, blocked by the blinds still seeps in enough to remind me.
A sepia setting, cream wallpaper that lumped when the rain fell
I feel it's damp in disgust thinking,
"I do not want to be here"
Yet, I constantly wander.
The television, stacked on top of books, the coat hanger, uncoiled and inserted for some clarity, this to me was normal.
A bunk bed for two, one clearly too old however, it was all we had
Faith, few clothes, and each other.