Voices have seeped into crumbling walls,
repeating forgotten conversations.

Laughter is memorised in bits of flaky wallpaper,
and is occasionally heard drifting on mouldy air.

Old arguments have settled into parquet,
and are reenacted in the creaking of ancient floorboards.

Emotional residue clings to rooms
abandoned a long time ago.

 

© november child

Heard

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