If you can find it,
I dare you to look inside
The black house on a hill
Where three suicides were survived,
The remnants of their pain
Reach vapourously for a light
To expose their nakedness,
And the hollowness of their eyes.
If you're nearby,
Why not chance a look?
The forgotten undead
Would be glad to have known you.
There are fantastic stories
Hidden under the splintered floors,
Romances and tragedies
That you could be part of.
Why not have tea
With a dysfunctional malevolence?
The eyes that inspect
Every movement, chill, and hush,
Have a hunger for your love,
You devotion, your affection
And a hatred for pain,
And the gentleness of touch.
She's wrapped up in sheets,
In the bedroom, where she lived
Still hungry, still aching,
Still decaying from inside.
This Halloween, you should go,
She'll be delighted
To find the Haunted House
Is where she has always resided.
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“She’s wrapped up in sheets,
In the bedroom, where she lived
Still hungry, still aching,
Still decaying from inside.”
Powerful images, beautifully and succinctly written. I can relate to this one especially.
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