I see it being built, in the eyes in a mirror reflecting the house inside made by bricks, woods, and stones replaced by the fires of guilt. Caught in the echo of the phrase remained unsaid, keeping me trapped inside the burning house that was never a home.
Now the ashes are falling and the the fire lines began to recede as the rain starts to pour, washing away the mess and turning it to a solid slate of rock that I threw on the lake, disturbing the calm waters, forming ripples that gradually elevated itself from the shore, rising in itself a wave of revenge upon the instigator.
Entangled by wires of the thoughts like threads of silk spindled and shaped that of a spider’s web leaving me suspended on the ground of the forsaken, forgotten and free. My skin touches the angry waters like a breeze of the wind. Weightless and unmoving and I realized it is the water that I am breathing.
Let out the light of obscurity against my skin, constantly covering me as a comfort, a cushion, a solace of embracing silence.