Haunted House

I left the boy of my youth
kneeling in a closet—
knees to cold floorboards,
breath shallow as dust.
The world outside
was too ultraviolet,
too loud with its living.

I sealed the windows
with hours and silence,
let survival
nail the door shut.
The house fell still,
as years creaked overhead.

But you—
you were never alone.
I heard your hush
in every room I entered,
felt your shadow
curl beneath my spine.

Now I’ve come home.
The lock gave easy.
Your eyes are still soft,
though rimmed in cobwebs.
Let me sweep.
Let me sit.
Let me remember
how to live
in a house with open windows.