concrete walls bear words by
permanent markers marking time
of when you were present.
these are not four walls
but a cube of second skin
this sheltered silence
so often indulged.
This isn’t just my home
it’s our home
of you that’s graced
my house with your presence
my kitchen with your cooking
my pillows with your rhythmic breathing
my skin with your…
Alone now, but not always.
A different story, a different name.
I’ve walked these boards
a thousand times
and when they bring in the wrecking ball
those words will explode into the air as dust
indistinguishable from the kitchen sink.
my wild animal friends – your trees, your shelter.
I’m so sorry.
I can move , have to, move house.
They will watch their home turned to concrete,
With words by permanent markers forever lost.
I finally became myself here x