Absence
The gutters and the eaves seem different without him. Even the grass does not appear as green as it once was. The door jambs sag in his absence. The windows, now hold a tainted reflection when viewed from the outside lawn. He is gone. And the siding heaves in disapproval. It used to be a loving home. Walls that longed to hold their portraits now feel naked and shunned. She is the only one left. It feels like a subduction of plate tectonics ripped through its foundation and rattled the normalcy apart. This home, this house, now weeps in crooked siding, and chips of peeling paint now that he is gone.
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AuthorMolly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw. Categories |