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"