Abby Karstrand
That deep, dirty smell
Seeps into your denim
And you can’t get it out
With industrial strength detergent
One day you’ll die
And your shit will be mine
Maybe that’s why I don’t like new things
I need old
Loved and abused
Threadbare cushions
My grandma’s old plaid couch
Feels so innocent
Now on the side of the road
Make room for ikea and kohl’s
Maybe that’s one of the emptiest feelings
I love you
And I want you to say it back
But coming home feels like a suck
A windowless room left musty
Ceiling panels dropped to the ground
Mothballs and mouse shit
I’ll learn to move on