Sitting on the empty floors of this house,
The cold walls pressing hard against the echoes of my voice.

The furniture, once warm,
made this house feel less abandoned.

It is all gone, along with carpets and curtains.

Slowly, the colors of the house were drained,
One by one, each piece was replaced,
And little by little pieces of me were lost,
forgotten between the drawers,
or in one of the the kitchen cupboards.

And perhaps, along with my memories, I also started to fade.
For I can no longer find solace resonating in this place.