Double

I am a home body,
I love the way my house smells at night,
the way the lights frame the mess in my room.
I like the way the books look on my shelves,
like they've never been read,
covered in skin cells, and stained with dark tea.
I took my first steps here,
which is a heavy burden for one building to carry for 19 years,
I have laid face first in the carpets
sobbing,
regretting moments,
which, took place within the squares of these rooms.
The walls know so many of my dirty little secrets,
and I fear that one day,
I will take my first steps into loneliness,
and the second I turn my back, it will be gone.
Here is where I have housed orphans,
and I have stayed awake
long enough to see the sunrise
from the corners of these windows.
And on the street beneath it's withering foundation
I kissed the first boy I ever loved.
and on the same street,
I clumsily told him just how much I loved him.
And if I let go of this house,
I feel like I'm letting go of everything I can still hold onto.
The only solid I've come to know.
I think I would rather it die a terrible death
at the hands of termites and rude ants,
than ever let it die at the hands of a man and his saw.