Empty Houses

These blank walls
used to hold photos
framed with family.
Wandering through empty houses
is like strolling through graveyards
of broken hearts
and birthday parties
and unexpected visits.
Rooms with scarred paint
and cracked fixtures
that once held
all the teenage angst in the world.
Houses are sort of like hearts–
when we leave,
our imprint stays
like people tracing fingerprints
on our souls.
These empty houses
heavy with ghosts
of other people’s lives.
I live in that gloaming,
that middle place
between the past
and the future
where things are tilted,
less certain.
My houses have been empty
waiting for that moment
of permanence
where I no longer see
hauntings of the past.

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