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This Room Is Not My Own This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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I haven't slept in a five-year-old girl's room
since I was a five-year-old girl.
I am a tenant in her parents' house,
a stranger.
We share a love for lavender and butterflies.
They cover the curtains, the bedspread and the walls
but I have a distrust for her baby dolls.
I put them under the bed when I got here.
I don't need their glass eyes, soulless windows.
They are too much like the eyes
of too many people I know.
I cut my leg shaving in her bathtub
and bled into her purple and white towel.
My eyelashes fell out into her sink
and down the drain
before I could make a wish.
A carousel rocking horse by the bed
has a bit in its mouth.
Outside the window, the glitter of the waterfront city
competes with the glitter of the stars.
A white butterfly has fallen in the corner.
One of its wings dust
the maid will sweep tomorrow.
I won't sleep tonight.
I cannot match my dreams to hers.
A siren starts up in the distance,
and rises, cutting the night.
I keep turning her pillow
to find the cool side.
Her bed is too warm and too soft.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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