The sound of a fall is heard through the entire room
It’s so empty, even whispers echo
I look about, tears brimming my eyes
This place was Home
It was my home
Fantasizing the memories I longed to have, I watch growing children chase past me
I can hear her on the phone with friends, getting ready in front of a fancy mirror. Her hair is long, she’s 13. She giggles and rolls her eyes, parting her lips to put on makeup.
He’s 15, with headphones and his door closed, I wonder what music he listens to as he lays on his bed looking at a magazine.
She’s 9, she plays with a golden dog in the backyard, before running to ask for lemonade.
Suddenly it changes, the 9 year old is dressed for prom, and walks down the stairs in her gorgeous dress.
And then again, the 13 year old has a band of giggling bridesmaids gathered around her in her old bedroom. She is dressed in white, glowing and ready for her big day to start a new life.
This was my house of dreams. Imagining fantasies that will never be memories.
It was ours. Perfect, charming…
And none of them will ever be.
I cry alone in my old house of dreams.
onlybyyourblood 