I'm blacking the windows out for the last time. Laying on my bed in the middle of the yard, this house doesn't feel like home anymore. I've emptied it out in hopes of finding the solace that used to lurk. Hovering over a wine stained carpet, I feel lost. My feet stay planted while my heart is long gone and my head is in the storm clouds. The clouds that turn day into night. The kind that make every desolate moment resurface. She's working late and I'm working on my composure. My mind is running amok with thoughts to tough to think. Thoughts even tougher to evacuate. This house is not a home. Just a place to play house. This house creaks with the cries that were muffled, the wind blows through the cracks with thoughts that could only escape in soft sighs. These bones shake when you come close. Hold me anyway, just until I open my eyes. Just until we get home.
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