Walls and rooms in white,

waiting to be wed;

with warmth.

To be emblazoned with ornate

shapes,

to be loved by boned, fleshed, vibrant

figures.

My finger traces the paint;

the dry coat, small bubbles,

air,

never breathed, never free

but there, in between cement and life.

Meant to watch, but never be

touched,

To soak in memories,

but never make sound.

My eye follows the illusion,

promises;

house turned to home,

emptiness filled with hope,

oiling the blank canvas with

blurry colours.

Laughter maybe to be sounded,

merriness

to be felt, tears to be absorbed,

screams to perfuse the pain…

My lips allow one kiss;

sparks of a fire cold,

unwanted.

A mist surrounds my senses.

I swim blindly in a turmoil of emotions.

Forbidden words escape, twist the

minds,

your hearts, their eyes.

My chest finds the wooden door,

calmly… gently… feel

its harshness, its stubborn sturdiness.

My arms surround it, a last hug,

a last hope to bend it, to fold it into
pieces,

to place it in my heart.

But no power of mine can make it
change.

No love sent can carve my name on it,

for it to bear forever.

It can only open and close, allow in and
spit out.

All the memories.

All the love.

All the laughter.

My screams.