We don’t live in that house anymore though mother sure wishes we do, she wants to spread her skin out on the lawn chairs and titter out someone else’s high society gossip into wine glasses and poolside conversation Â
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We don’t live in that house anymore we lived on the other side of a beach bride we could always leave the light on and out there sea turtles never crawled up to bury their shells in sand, never thought the shining beam of pool light that swam a faded yellow through the pool as we sat dangling feet through the streams could be the pale white moon
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We don’t live in that house anymore saving up ten dollars in quarters and pennies and cheap plastic lighters hidden coves of cash from young thief siblings with too sharp grins over giggled out lies
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God forgive me but i wish we never did i can’t handle thoughts of back yard adventures snuck around neighbor’s houses whose faces we never saw  maybe our hose isn’t the same without in ground pools to pour tap water smells into maybe childhood memories prefer the backyard rainbows we made with chubbed fingers over sprouts to change the spray but i’m still recovering from memories when the mist comes the kind my mind made clinging to those four pink faded walls in that room i never fit
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Mother I know you want to go back and spread yourself over the king sized bed, the one fourth acre lawn but listen that house never did anything for me but make me cry father, would you forgive me if i never liked my childhood the way you loved us running through the grass that house was always a memory trapped in a metaphor, we all needed to leave.
- Old Addresses | L.B  © 2017
Written for @julykings PromptsÂ
