House of would-be memories
The sunlight sneaks in quietly between dusty blinds,
as my eyes drift lazily from room to room.
I move through the house as a shade,
my foot steps echoing down the empty halls.
A homage of what could have been floods my senses,
the quiet of my mind suddenly filled with music and laughter.
Feelings of love, safety, and home so strong,
my knees become weak when they wash over me.
I feel it happening, and I let go.
Illusion takes over, and I am no longer in control.
I hear a TV that is no longer there, hum to life as I round the corner.
On the couch, I see you,
fighting hard to stay awake through the movie,
your head resting in my lap. It must be late,
for even my eyes look heavy with sleep.
I make my way up the stairs
hand caressing the wooden banister,
as the bathroom door at the top slowly opens,
thick steam rolling out
imbued with the scent of your shampoo.
In the reflection of the foggy mirror I can see us kissing,
my hands entangled in your wet hair,
as the water falls around us,