Dear: Hell

Painted Family

There was a painted portrait of a family
hanging in an empty hallway,
in a rotting house.
It hanged on flowery wallpaper
that was peeling and had lost it's colour.

The mother stood on the right,
half hidden in the shadows
that the burgundy red drapes had cast.
A tight sea green dress that
hugged her unperfected body

– that was what she thought
when looking in the mirror,
a skeleton of her mother –

a diamond necklace covered her
scrawny neck that was paired
with a charm bracelet
that hanged on her wrist.

Black jeweled earrings
were clipped on her ears.
Her blond hair was pulled
back into a perfect tight bun.  

On the left was the father
standing straight and tall.
The light from the window
casted shadows onto his stern face
that always had eyes 
like gray rocks.

His black suit was wrinkled free.
His black shoes were polished
until they sparked in the sun.

Their seven year old son
was in the middle,
like he was the bridge the gap
between the two,
as if he was the reason
why the two were together at all.

The son, had a black suit on
just like the father,
but the bow that the mother tied
was coming undone.
The gel that they put in his
dirty blond hair didn't help
to tame the wild hair
that was going in every direction.
He wore a bright smile,
missing teeth and all.

"Stand up straight."

"Don't show any emotions,
they are a gate way into your thoughts."
"If people can read your thoughts
then you no longer have
the upper hand in the situation."

That was what the father always said.

Smiling was a rare occasion in the family.

The portrait made them look 
like any family trying to rise 
a seven year old son. 

The picture showed 
their own personalities 
that shine through,
but sometimes those personalities 
clashed together. 

But the family was still intact, right?