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Writer's pictureMuskan Verma

Dwelling

Sometimes the light is so bright

It scares whoever tries to

come close.

Sometimes the darkness so deep

they get lost somewhere before

the first touch.

Sometimes knocking on the door

may be the polite thing to do,

but it ends up shut in the face, with them

turned away.

Because the door is jammed

shut- it has been, for longer

than anyone can care to

remember.

Sometimes the grandeur,

the intricate beauty and the

power that comes with being

the piece of art, a part of

history draws everyone

close.

Many pay visits, many left in

awe, many fall in love

But no-one can stay

long enough.

The architecture is beautiful enough

to make you a

regular- a good friend

but to settle

here- just not enough? or

maybe too much?

It's a house for

the world,

but not a soul found

a home.

The windows, the glass is stained

and children run away

after drawing smiles

in the dust

-the only smiles my building shows.


Sometimes, it's hard

to be a house so beautiful

-sometimes it gets lonely

but some roofs are

meant to shelter

travelers, to give love,

and a home for their journeys.

Have the flowers grow back

And then let go- with a loving scent,

a kiss so they might stay a while.


And the house stands

still- in all its glory,

its beauty and grandeur

flowers ready to bloom

lying in wait for the next fling with spring.

Never waking up to the same bodies, never

too much to find

yet infinitely exquisite,

adorned in the little things

each lover left behind.

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