Poets logo

The Derelict

The death of a house ...

By Mack DevlinPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
1

The house is dying.

Water leaks in,

Down into the walls,

Causing slow decay.

Withering cold air currents

Slip in through cracks.

In her brick and mortar skin,

Lie the ghosts of the dead

Trying to find rest,

But seeing only empty corners.

In the morning light,

The house is almost lovely,

Her bricks a delicious ginger.

But by midday

The fade in the shutters,

Cracks in the glass,

Crumbling mortar,

All the anonymous wounds,

Are suddenly revealed.

Like a slow old horse,

Her center sags,

Bones weakened by time

And overuse.

Her end is coming,

But she longs to be full

Just one last time,

Before the monsters,

Puffing their sick black smoke,

Tear her to shreds.

sad poetry
1

About the Creator

Mack Devlin

Writer, educator, and follower of Christ. Passionate about social justice. Living with a disability has taught me that knowledge is strength.

We are curators of emotions, explorers of the human psyche, and custodians of the narrative.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.