Our House is for Sale

Love within was strong, unwavering, and wild.

I can’t forsee a time when this ache will seem so mild.

Time, at first, appeared so distant from pain,

As memories, now, patina my heart with a somber stain.

The rooms here feel a dingy brown,

A murky atmosphere of intrigue for the town.

I feign a half-hearted smile.

The tears have backed off for the while,

As I plan my escape route,

As I wish my heart a deaf mute,

Never knowing of that which balls me up inside,

Never choosing fight or flight, run or hide.

I wish you’ll never know

How love could hurt you so.

But this pain is all I feel,

And the agony is profoundly with me every day,

Even when I hear the uninhabitable words you say.

Our life, the script you write,

Our love, the roaring blight,

Where the words are true,

As true as the facade is blue,

And as real as the sun that shines.

For us, the tie that binds,

A dream here ends, forever more.

Beauty abandoned upon a laminate floor.


6 thoughts on “Our House is for Sale

  1. This is very good, but in such a profoundly sad way, and knowing you makes it all the more touching. So much, that could have been, if he had just stepped up, made an effort. And the great dichotomy of emotion that separates, his uncaring, your desire for a lovely home and family, really grabs, and pulls at one’s soul. It’s heartbreaking, in a slow-motion way… and he just moves along, an uncaring log meandering down a river. Thank you for this – I know it took a lot of effort. 🙂

  2. Eva dear,

    The title says it all, I reckon – “Our” “House” is for “Sale”. Knowing a little back story, this is a powerful poem. It must have taken quite a lot for you to transpose your feelings onto verse.

    Sweet and sad – but as a poem, also lovely.

    A new house beckons, an opportunity to build new and beautiful memories – I pray and hope for a friend.

    Peace and blessings my dear,

  3. Eric,
    It was cathartic to write. It had been a thought, every single day since ‘he’ did what ‘he’ did and got caught with his pants down. I carry on, but the house represented such the promise of a bright future and possible financial gain, someday, and sadly, now all it can be for me is a reminder of ‘his’ dirty deeds. ‘He’ made us the talk of the town. The neighbors saw me crying quite often and my eyes still are puffy and red, but the poem, the creation of it, got a lot of those feelings out of me. I need them all to be gone. I feel as though I fail my children with each tear or with each sleepless night.A happy mother makes happy children. I do my best to fake it for them.The good kind of lies, I suppose.
    Thanks for wishing the good things for me. You are an amazing man.

  4. Fabulous poem ,l liked the smooth rhyming .Thank you for following my weblog.Wishing you the best.jalal

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