The Unspoken Pain
The unspoken pain that lingers in the soul.
Regret stews like a pot in the kitchen,
simmering with drug-filled decisions.
The tallest towers
are stacks of unwashed dishes
in a sink of despair.
Cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling
catch flies buzzing against the wall.
The timer on the oven
blinks at me often,
yet refuses to be used at all.
The faucet drips
in unison with the tears that fall.
Magnets on the refrigerator
hold the lyrics of a forgotten song.
The aroma of fresh coffee
from an old pot
dances through a broken nose.
A table stained with memories
stands where the chairs
can no longer bear the weight.
Cracks in the flooring
run all the way through.
Blue paint drips
where the floor
no longer meets the wall.
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