I walk through the green,
it consumes everything around it.
This home abandoned by its trust.
Plants grow to spite what was before.
I walk through the house.
Furniture lays on the floor creaking.
They call out to me to lift it back up.
They call out to me to bring what was before,
but I know it has been lost for too long
in the sea of abandonment.
I walk back into the green again
feeling it brush my leg light as a feather.
I look down and then up to the clouds,
they dance and twirl into endless shapes.
I walk through the green forevermore.
YOU ARE READING
The Fault of Being
PoetryWe dwell deep in our minds constantly. Never knowing whether or not we are going to get out alive, but that doesn't bother us. The fact that we don't feel so alone makes all that pain worth it.
