Cobwebs. Rusted gate. Dusty step. Locked up. Forgotten. An empty bowl. A thriving cactus amongst the ruins. A reflected life with no humanity. Hiding. Biding time.
There’s no key. No exit. Can only push through. Rush in. Yet halt time. The memories linger. Ghosts within ourselves. A heavy burden. A weighted shoulder. A sagging heart. It still pumps but everyday it fades a little more.
That is what she felt everyday as she passed this house. She wanted to scream and see if the windows cracked open. But she knew the ghosts would only hold on tighter.
bgpetrasade 