IRC-Galleria

Someone left the door open and the cool eerie draft came in again, swore IÂ’d have a backup plan to keep it warm this time, but that was then. The floors once creeked in harmony now they threaten to bust from underneath me. IÂ’m shaken, the fireplace no longer slow burning embers, but blinding flames that dance violently leaving behind charred dark shadows that stain the mantle. Raindrops no longer offer the calming sound of drawn out taps to soothe my static mind, now they ripple one after the other until itÂ’s no longer a monotoned volume but a stampede aross the ceiling. The bed I rest on is no vacation from the day but another reason why I stay away. ItÂ’s a row full of pins, if I lay too long theyÂ’ll sink in and IÂ’ll never leave till this pain ends. But this house is old and the fixes that are needed arenÂ’t seen by the people who peak inside these windows. They say a house is a house and they all come with problems, I shouldnÂ’t be so discouraged to just start over. And I tell them I canÂ’t, because the minute I patch this wall and go to the next itÂ’s caving in on me and I canÂ’t even see the mess IÂ’ve been working on. I can hardly breathe, I keep all the openings shut, I canÂ’t be bothered with people throwing away their trash into my house. Though now no one visits and they tell me they never see me, my lights are off and the door is locked. I wish theyÂ’d see what this house could truly be, what it was meant to be. However, as long as the key is mine they have to be patient till I can find one day where I can bear to see them standing in the doorway. Where IÂ’ll expect their knock and be willing to invite them in to lend a hand to make this house a home again.

- Ravynne K.