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adele-heyesPoems
He built a house from shadows, and called it love. Each brick laid with whispers, each room locked with fear. I was a child made of light, and he taught me to dim. He said I was special, but I learned that meant broken. His hands rewrote my story— pages torn from innocence, inked in control, sealed with silence. He watched me shrink beneath his sickness, while my mother chased ghosts and my father drowned in distance. He saw my loneliness and wore it like permission. I became a room he entered, a secret he kept. He called it care. It was consumption. Years later, I walk through the ruins— the walls still echo his lies, but I am rebuilding. My voice is mortar. My truth, a flame. And this time, the house is mine.
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Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 5:34 PM UTC
House of silence
He built a house from shadows, and called it love. Each brick laid with whispers, each room locked with fear. I was a child made of light, and he taught me to dim. He said I was special, but I learned that meant broken. His hands rewrote my story— pages torn from innocence, inked in control, sealed with silence. He watched me shrink beneath his sickness, while my mother chased ghosts and my father drowned in distance. He saw my loneliness and wore it like permission. I became a room he entered, a secret he kept. He called it care. It was consumption. Years later, I walk through the ruins— the walls still echo his lies, but I am rebuilding. My voice is mortar. My truth, a flame. And this time, the house is mine.
Written by
adele-heyes
St.helens
Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 5:34 PM UTC
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