Playing House - Tritina
Ours is a game I’ve decided not to play
anymore, rearranging furniture in this house
and stitching samplers of imaginary memories
In between cracked, sepia toned memories
the background music begins to play
thin strains of “There’s a Stranger In My House”.
And, because our love lives in a glass house,
it shatters from having to share
its rooms with rock-throwers at play.
We play house instead of home and
share only memories of broken dreams.
The Focus of a Monk
5 days ago
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