There is a place
where the ghosts of our arguments reside
whispering through the halls
crawling up the walls
darting, making calls
stretching out, sprawled everywhere,
carelessly at home.

These ghosts have been here
far longer than we ever were.
They made a home
where we were unable to.
They found comfort all together
where we had to be apart.

The ghosts of our tortured conversations
haunt those rooms
I am sure
but will never verify
for I
will never go back.