The bed breathed deeply.
The furnitures covered with
your luminescent fingerprints.
The silverware died slowly,
in the grey sink.
The house tried to talk to me/

I was afraid to step out,
Outside the sympathy of my house.
Into the streets spilled with
people of your asymmetric eyes
My house tried to talk to me.

I now have nobody left to lose,
As I lay on the carpet with a sense of sooth,
The chandelier finally sang its vocal cord loose,
The wires looped instinctively like prehistoric noose.
My house tried to talk to me.

Then I know I am not alone,
The house teems with your pulse,
The glass splits from echo of your voice.
The house tells me so.

I broke through the door,
torn away from the umbilical cord of my solitude.
Melted through the heat of the cheering multitude.
My house tells me, taking care of each word.

My house tells me,
I am not alone,
And you will always
be with me in spirit only.