My Soul Speaks

old vacant house

dust-covered porcelain, 

spider cracks webbing down the smiling faces,

the shine in their eyes 

now only a reflection of the sunlit room.

spiders cowering in the corner,

shadows looming through 

sheet-covered furniture.

 lonely halls, 

echoes of children long gone,

old, rustic paintings on the wall,

once a place a child dreamed of being.

my hand drags against the antique-white walls,

the smell of homecooked pasta 

and coffee 

filling my senses.

i wonder through the rooms,

 wondering what happened,

to the place, i once called home.

the creaking wood beneath my feet,

the bitter longing in my heart,

i thought being free meant having a home

wherever my heart was.

but instead, 

i am left with

a war-torn past

and a bittersweet memory of the tears 

that stain the floors.