One Rainy Night

In the little house on the hill,
the occupants all tread like ghosts,
taking soft, delicate steps,
as to not set off another explosion.
Every room is filled with faded echoes
of laughter and conversation,
reminders of happier times.
But there’s no laughter filling the little house now.
Instead, there is mistrust and broken promises,
and the ghost with the hollow blue eyes,
and the ghost with the jaded green eyes,
wonder what the hell went wrong,
to turn the house full of love
into a place where there is no longer warmth
and not a soul smiles,
and the silence is so loud that it screams.
One is sick of trying and failing,
and the other hates that she lose the one she loves most.
The world below is flooded
with the millions of tears they have cried,
and the house is overflowing with pent-up emotions,
and none of them can do a thing.
The only way to stay sane anymore
is to hold onto the minute hope that
eventually, things would get better,
and they will no longer feel this way,
and once again the little house on the hill
will be the home it once was.

Tags: Poem of mine