I wonder if houses miss eachother.
I wonder if that's why they
Creak and moan in the night.
There's this house that
Burned down last spring.
An empty mailbox and just
A pile of ash behind it.
The house that still stood
Looked worn and decayed.
I wonder if it misses the
House that once stood beside it.

And what of the house
Built in it's place?

We compared our handwriting today.
"Yours is alluring. Enticing."
He told me.
"Like the unfinished poems I find
Written on your palms sometimes."
He told me.