House to Home - LetterPile - Writing and Literature
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House to Home

house-to-home

Tonight the house is having trouble sleeping. Tonight the house is alive. All of it’s parts are in constant motion. All of it’s walls collaborating together to breathe. All of it’s floors shifting to find comfort.

There is something unsettling about a house that can’t find it’s silence. One that hasn’t found a way to sink into the calm. Doesn’t quite understand what it means to lie still.

It has become a battle to live in a house where people are not the only ones that make noise at 2 am. Where you find yourself arguing with the beams and rafters for tranquility. Confronting the dull hum in the existence of a room to be hushed. A house constantly at war with my wakefulness.


Home became a candle flame; the whole world began to spark. There was something about this crackle of light, this enlightenment expanding. My feet learned how to run into it, while my mind grasped onto what it meant to start over just one more time. To see the universe for what it wanted to be, not for what I had created.

In this abandonment of comfort, I found you. I will not thank you for what you gave, nor will I ask for an apology for what you failed to give.

What I will ask for is your understanding in how I loved you until my hands cracked under the pressure of only being a convenience. Sometimes the world’s light can be so blinding; I’m sure this is why you’re having trouble seeing that this was your mistake.

You praised my body before your studies my soul, and yet I’m the one who failed. There are nights in my drifting mind where the memory of you saying my name is deafening. On these nights, I lay the foundation in my own closure of remembering.

© 2020 Xandra Lang