I called out to you in the dead of night.
My eager heart plummeting
at the occasional creaking sound that came
from within our old battered down house.
Every sigh and moan,
an echo of the anguish the old house had once endured.
I understood the house’s pain and it accepted mine
The way a mother accepts her young.
The house was dying,
and so was I.
We both knew it
but still We cried out for you,
together,
one last time.
Frightened and forlorn as we were.
Like the last rose of winter,
holding on to its withering petals,
too afraid to let go,
But far too weak to hold on.
I sprawled out across the kitchen floor.
My punctured heart spilling out,
through the cracks between each slab
of generically stained linoleum
The house held me
"Close your eyes, "
it whispered.
I held them open
for as long as I could
I grit my teeth
and whispered back
"I’m sorry"