Post by Nightwisher on Nov 25, 2018 7:34:43 GMT -5
Three floors high, with an attic I’ve never seen and a basement like a den,
Always the sound of footsteps, sometimes without a body to leave them
A house full of sounds, music from the dining room, Old Barleycorn
A silent figure, resting his left arm on the arm of the wooden chair, pale blue eyes staring out the window
He wasn’t always silent. A sung “ho dee die dum didali day”
Happy, a smile on his face, creasing the corners of his eyes
A string of curse words from the basement, he dropped something
But it was the older children that taught those words to the younger…
The orange colored carpet, it still smelled like soot
So did the walls of the Big Room, even though they’d been covered by paint
It felt like everything was like that, the broken parts…
Never truly fixed, just hidden away under something more pretty
Not everything was like that, holes riddled the walls,
A moose’s face in the chipped paint of the T.V Room door,
A bathroom without a wall, a hole in the floor in the hallway
Symbols of what had become of the family
The kitchen was okay at least, the fridge always full
Dishes were clean, most of the time, as long as we were in trouble
But that mint green floor with the black designs
Never looked the same after the dishes had been thrown at my feet
Three floors high, with an attic I’d never seen and a basement like a den,
Always the sound of footsteps, sometimes without a body to leave them
A home with memories, tensions, and endless battles
A house that no longer stands, not the way it used to, anyway.
