The House With Shuttered Windows
What secrets are held inside
The House With Shuttered Windows
The house keeps its silence
ivy climbing across its throat
no bird lands on its sill
the air refuses to breathe here
shadows fold against the walls
I pass it at dusk
my steps gather in my chest
my hand almost rises to knock
but the wood is tired of knocks
tired of questions
tired of visitors who never stay
Inside I imagine dust
layered like another wallpaper
and chairs with spines bent
from waiting too long
for voices to return
I think of death
how it lingers quiet as moths
behind the curtains
holding a patient smile
never needing to move
The windows never open
yet something gazes out
watching the street
as if it remembers me
as if it wants me to come closer
So I do not linger
I keep walking
and still I feel it following
the air colder behind my back
a secret I will not carry home
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
What an intriguing poem that I think would make a great fiction story. Good job.
I like how you so cleverly gave the house a throat. Making it come alive for us. The house sounds lonely. Even the birds don't go to the window sill anymore. It also sounds haunting. Dust layered like another wallpaper. I love the contrast here. I can imagine it. Awe. Even the chairs waited too long. I like how you captured death with your words and held it hostage behind the curtain of this house. 'As if it remembers me' it's like you pointed the flashlight at yourself and then at the reading. This line was especially terrifying. Fantastic work as always Marie 🤗❤️