Each of these rooms has a life of its own
beyond the one that currently smashes a hand into the wall,
pulls back,
shakes it,
waits for the red of her knuckles to fade.
Someone else once knelt at the porcelain alter,
sending praises to a night of too much fun,
longing for the days when mom got up no matter how late it was
and brought cool rags washing away thoughts of not waking.

Each of these rooms has a life of its own,
these walls have seen words dart back and forth.
angry words..
that knock a person over
leaving another curled up at night wondering if she was too hard,
cheerful words...
that bubble over, soap suds on a floor too long unmopped
sad words...
that get lost under the bed with dust bunnies,
boxes, and old letters, and hang around like posters on the wall.

Each of these rooms has a life of its own,
beyond pizza boxes and post cards,
beyond two beds, two desks, two dressers,
even beyond two bathroom mirrors.

Each of these rooms has a history,
a legacy, a story to tell
with plots and subplots, lessons,
morals, romance
intrigue and suspense.

Each of these rooms will breathe life into you.