Sep 07
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My dreams are tarnished like the knives in my auburn-stained kitchen.
Chipped paneling and cracked marble once paved the way for my future.
Moths are drawn to the flame of vulnerability and crickets chirp to the sound of a beating heart.

I step on the broken glass of my past as words shatter this fragile, archaic home.
This ramshackle state of a home translates to the incompatible voices that vibrate through it.
Speakers play old-fashioned music as a clock strikes motionless on the edge of destruction. 

How I wish for time to stay as quiescent as it once was. 

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About the Author: ellenb
Ele B
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