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Moving away from home, losing your dreams, hopes, memories. This poem tells a story about a house that was once, my home.


Submitted:Oct 12, 2010    Reads: 15    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Once A Home. broken dreams drape helplessly from the fogged in windows, useless hope rests dead upon the light wood floors, shattered love hangs thick from the white coated ceilings, scattered memories light the hallways with a warm lone glow. ~*~ the home stands tall yet emptiness floods each floor, remnants of the treasured memories seep through the pavement slowly being dissembled by uneven cracks and broken pieces of nothingness, dreams dreamt by the three sisters light the dim colorless rooms ~*~ boxed up collections of memories sit alone in the fridgid attic lost and dusty; lifeless but not dead, memories boxed up inside the corners of our minds cracked pieces in our hearts spaces between our fingers, are closed away, locked without a key. ~*~ not only did we build this home but for it built us too, not only did the walls create a house but with love and dreams, we created a home ~*~ as the colorless windows fade away with fog the memories pour out and down the gutters, when the broken driveway dissolves into nothing the hope woven inside will disappear into the dark, once the shattered love takes over each dream, the home will become nothing but a house a house that was once, a home.




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