Grief is a house
Where the chairs have forgotten how to
hold us.
The mirrors how to reflect us.
The walls how to contain us.
Grief is a house
That disappears.
Each time the door bell rings
A house that blows into the air at the
slightest gust.
That buries itself deep into the ground.
While everyone sleeps.
Grief is a house
Where no one can protect you.
Where your best friend will grow older than the oldest one
where the doors no longer let you in or out.
Where the chairs have forgotten how to
hold us.
The mirrors how to reflect us.
The walls how to contain us.
Grief is a house
That disappears.
Each time the door bell rings
A house that blows into the air at the
slightest gust.
That buries itself deep into the ground.
While everyone sleeps.
Grief is a house
Where no one can protect you.
Where your best friend will grow older than the oldest one
where the doors no longer let you in or out.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
alaskanman
IrishLad3
FreedomIsMyVirtue
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