This house is falling apart
But we didn’t know it. There in the bedroom I through myself over – laughing, crying, in hysteria, as the cement cracks creaked and the palms lashed at us a scornful wind. And I forgot this part, there by the window, that shone through a blinding light, our voices drowned out – the coffee pot steaming on the kitchen top, the constant wizzing sound that rang through my ears, through this part. I can’t hear us anymore.
But the walls started leaking, and broke down in parts, large stone chunks clunks hard on the ground. And our wallpaper hearts, kept on spinning through the rooms, there in the passage, we ran through dancing, hurting. But the music kept on playing, and my eyes were red from seeing, this light was blinding me from something.
And then the screams came, like thunder to my ears, my own heartbeat sound was hard of hearing. But I leaped for you, my arms stretched out, my fingertips grazed yours as you turned your back from me. I felt my knees hit the ground, on the dark wooden floor, the pain surged through me with my head to the ground – I heard the door close behind you.
And the walls kept on leaking, and dripped on me as I slept, there in the empty bed, the one in the corner with the white sheets and the wet patch, I lied cold, there in the damp spot, my bones curled up and you weren’t there to see my heart stop.