The House That Remembered Everything

The House That Remembered Everything

It stood beyond the reach of roads,

Where no one passed without regret,

A house that watched with blinded eyes,

Yet missed no soul that wandered near.

Its walls were thick with years of breath,

Each brick held fast to what it knew,

And none who crossed its threshold line,

Left all of themselves behind.

The door gave way with quiet ease,

As though it welcomed every step,

No lock remained, no guard was set,

For none who entered left unchanged.

The air was close, it clung and pressed,

A weight that settled in the chest,

And every sound, however small,

Returned as something not its own.

The floors would speak beneath the feet,

Not loud, not clear, yet never still,

A shifting murmur, low and drawn,

Like distant voices held in wood.

The walls were marked with passing hands,

Though none were seen to make those signs,

And in the corners something moved,

Too slow to catch, too near to trust.

A mirror hung along the hall,

Its surface dim, its silver worn,

It gave no truth to those who looked,

But something else that lingered long.

A face would form, then fade again,

Not quite the one who stood before it,

And in its depth a hollow gaze,

Would follow long after one had gone.

The stairs rose up in crooked lines,

Each step a strain, a quiet groan,

Halfway there the air would change,

Grow thick with something undefined.

Many turned and fled from there,

Yet some were drawn to finish what,

They could not name, nor understand,

Until the house had taken hold.

No child had laughed there for long years,

Yet still that sound would drift at times,

A fragile echo, thin and strained,

That broke before it could be known.

And in the night, when all lay still,

The rooms would shift in subtle ways,

As though the house itself would breathe,

And turn its thoughts from wall to wall.

It did not sleep, it did not rest,

It held each moment, every step,

Each fear, each doubt, each final breath,

Was kept within its endless mind.

And those who left would feel it still,

A weight that never fully passed,

For once it knew the shape of you,

It never chose to let it fade.

#Marie381UkWrites #www #viral #poetrymagazines #facebook #twitter #instergrampoets #vocalmedia