There will always be
something broken left
in the attic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Kissing the dust,
A hide out
from sun rays.
There will always be
something silenced right
behind
the closed door:
mom's chapped lips
dad's cracked hands
Shushed— "let our child sees no traces,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ let them think it's alright."
Not even a brave wave
could sink it down
they’re holding still
the water's rising, seeps
through every nook and cranny.
but,
won’t a small leak sink a great ship?
He loves antiques, so much
he would turn it into
a shipwreck—reserved and intact.
Mar 21, 2020
Mar 21, 2020 at 12:06 PM UTC
There will always be
something broken left
in the attic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Kissing the dust,
A hide out
from sun rays.
There will always be
something silenced right
behind
the closed door:
mom's chapped lips
dad's cracked hands
Shushed— "let our child sees no traces,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ let them think it's alright."
Not even a brave wave
could sink it down
they’re holding still
the water's rising, seeps
through every nook and cranny.
but,
won’t a small leak sink a great ship?
He loves antiques, so much
he would turn it into
a shipwreck—reserved and intact.
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