The home we built,
With its dusted over floors,
And the hinges full of sand that scratch and whisper as they’re opened,
The trees outside still blow lazily in the breeze,
Coaxing timid beams of light to sneak their way between the boards on the window,
and guide my eyes from corner to corner like they’re trying to make Caravaggio proud,
The unchanged walls bear all the evidence of my sins,
“Take off your shoes, stay a while”
I can still hear you say in jest,
Truth is I can’t these days,
the floor glitters with a beautiful hazard,
The shards of our broken promises, covered in my fingerprints,
Sometimes I sit with them,
Fiddle with them,
Arrange and rearrange them into different mosaics till inevitably,
My fingers catch an edge and start to bleed.
The sharp pain snaps me back to reality,
The breeze outside calls me back to it warmly,
Time to go.
In the tomb of all we were, I have completed the spiral countless times over.
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 2:36 PM UTC
The home we built,
With its dusted over floors,
And the hinges full of sand that scratch and whisper as they’re opened,
The trees outside still blow lazily in the breeze,
Coaxing timid beams of light to sneak their way between the boards on the window,
and guide my eyes from corner to corner like they’re trying to make Caravaggio proud,
The unchanged walls bear all the evidence of my sins,
“Take off your shoes, stay a while”
I can still hear you say in jest,
Truth is I can’t these days,
the floor glitters with a beautiful hazard,
The shards of our broken promises, covered in my fingerprints,
Sometimes I sit with them,
Fiddle with them,
Arrange and rearrange them into different mosaics till inevitably,
My fingers catch an edge and start to bleed.
The sharp pain snaps me back to reality,
The breeze outside calls me back to it warmly,
Time to go.
In the tomb of all we were, I have completed the spiral countless times over.
As time goes on it gets easier to understand.
I’m sorry as always
