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.

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. 

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