Empty

Dreams dripping down the corrugated roof

Weeds running rampant in the yard

Shoving their way up through the cracks in the floorboards

Dust whispers secrets to the shadows of the cobwebs

The lone wire hanger in the closet remembers

a plaid wool coat that used to weigh down it rusted neck

The sunlight flickers in amorphous circles

Filtered through the curtains

Singing haunted lullabies of the people long lost

It illuminates the scribble along the wall

Left by some self-deprecating youth

The wind shifts the foundation, creaking, speaking up into the beams overhead

It’s a deafening silence

Full

of hauntingly transparent meaninglessness

A misunderstood beauty.

An empty home.