Crying House
By, Jess Dickson
The air is thick here,
This crying-dying house of hell
Tears drip from the roof of broken promises
Images gaze accusingly from the nails that hung them there
Crucified memories
Child laughter-scribbles on the walls
Full of glee and silenced here
Brokenness creaks in the stairs
Dreams fallen through the cracks of varnished floors
What-could-have-been’s hide in the corner
Of projects long abandoned to tears
Heaps of laundry-lies stashed in the basement
Piled high between lights and darks
The air is empty here,
This dying-crying house of goodbye
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