I am a house
Built without floors.
Nothing there
To break my fall.
It is cold down here
In the wet earth.
The walls whisper.
I am lonely, and
Oh so tired.
I am a house
Built without comfort.
My hollow spaces
Are barbed and cruel.
There is no respite,
Nowhere to breathe.
I am a collection
Of tears, bleeding
Through the seams.
I am a house
Built without doors.
Do not knock on my
Ruined frame.
Darkness is alive here.
Each little thought
Echoes as it falls.
Some things are
Born to abandon.
-
Author:
Kora (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 31st, 2026 04:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Demar Desu
Offline)
Comments4
Abandoned houses are sad as are abandoned people they fall into disrepair collect spiders and rodents and soon rot. Hopefully someone will buy it and live in it. A very nice write with great metaphor well imaged.
Thank you Soren, that's so kind ❤️
You are most welcome Kora
You’re on fire
Haha I don't know about that 😅
No in a good way! Your house is warm!
Superbly written
Hopefully you have strong foundations
Enjoyed
Thank you so much 🥰
Misery - don't believe a word of it.😉
Well written though, Kora.
I am a complex girl Uncle Dave 😂
Many layers - like an onion 👀😂
Thank you ❤️🙈
I can feel the tears welling up already - it's the onion, I tell ya, the onion🥹💧💧
Aww, no tears 🥺 I am sending you a lovely forehead kiss. That will fix it right up. Catch!
....*sigh*... aah...
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