A house that builds itself

July 16, 2015

What more must I say?

Lights hang on wires down wind blown shingles

And

Asphalt melts beneath our light treads

Rarely do the writers and poets

Speak of the cobwebs

between two people

Who no longer love each other.

A mother,

And

A father,

Two people, two houses, two lives,

Vows mean nothing after

Knives in spines

And

Jars of cold promises

Mother and father convinced me

That nothing lasts forever

Mom told me to wear red lipstick

And

To break boys hearts

Dad told me to sell my things

And

Run with the long legs that he gave me.

Perhaps

The dust that has settled

between a man and a woman

Between children and their parents

Should not remain in the crevices and cracks

Of the house that falls apart

And

The one that is building itself.

Often times,

Fire is something frightening,

But

I hope that this one match

Will create an explosion

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.