Abandoned House

I spend my nights in an abandoned house
Watching paint peel away
Undressing the weary walls as they tell their tales.
Tracing cracks across tired floorboards
Leading me to long locked doors.
That I never dare to open.

Grand windows frame an overgrown world.
Thorns and thistles creep slowly in the stillness
The wind sings a somber melody
Through shattered window panes
And rickety door frames

Crescendoing on a silver stage
Lit through the holes in the ceiling.

Dust clings to everything
Like and old friend who has one last chance to say goodbye
Memories of colour hide in corners and behind doors.
Soft pink, the colour of first kisses
Deep purples, the last trace of a bodies betrayal
Pale blues, the timid greeting of the morning sky
Soon, to be lost in the endless grey.

A spiraling path of grandeur and greatness
Now four uneven steps that lead to nothingness
Serve as a solitary seat, where I may dwell with eyes closed
Listening to the monsters rattle and roar.
Locked away in basements, attics, cupboards and jewelry boxes
No space to large or to small.
They do not rest, nor sleep, nor eat,
Waiting for the hesitant sun to silence them again.

I spend my nights in an abandoned house
Listening to the music of my breathing
A dissonant symphony
That undresses me as I tell my weary tale
Tracing veins across tired skin
Leading me to dreams
That I never dare remember.