I was once called Home, before the fire,
said the quiet man beside the closing door.
Now every room repeats what I no longer am.
The hallway hummed with ash and old desire,
walls listening like witnesses at war.
I was once called Home, before the fire
Outside, the dusk rehearsed a softer pyre,
smoke writing names the wind could not ignore.
Now every room repeats what I no longer am.
He held a key grown thin with useless wire,
its teeth remembering what they were for.
I was once called Home, before the fire.
Time learns to circle what it can’t retire,
returning grief to places sworn secure.
Now every room repeats what I no longer am.
I left him where the light began to tire,
carrying a silence not my own.
“I was once called Home, before the fire;
Now every room repeats what I no longer am.”
About the Creator
Aarsh Malik
Poet, Storyteller, and Healer.
Sharing self-help insights, fiction, and verse on Vocal.
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Comments (7)
This is beautiful and haunting, a whispered presence of melancholy amongst the wreckage. Very striking Villanelle!
Both sad and meaningful.
Haunting, great poem!
This is so sad and nostalgic, kind of remind me of how i feel sometimes.
gives that feeling of loneliness-well done
i am new to vocal media , my question is that is vocal media really give withdraw and maximum how many you earn
This is so sad. The repetition hits harder each time. I still haven’t been brave enough to try a Villanelle yet. Awesome work!