GROUNDED.

when i first moved into this house four years ago

and i was unpacking all my shit into my new room

i found an empty pack of bond street blues hidden in the back of the closet 

owned by the girl who lived here before me.

i didn't throw them out, just left them there.

i'm now about the same age as she was.

two years after i moved in, i painted the walls green

covering up her pink ones which had years of little paintings and murals all over it

and i got rid of the closet

and the empty pack of smokes went with it.

maybe it's just the nicotine and the warm sun on my face but every time i smoke out my window and i see the dents in the tin roof below me from where she had climbed out to sit and smoke

i feel so strongly grounded.