Halls of the Dark Muse

House of Memories

A broken doll discarded on the floor,
house full of memories gathering dust,
scattered letters blow down the hall,
the remains of lives like a scar,
now emptiness felt around every turn,
the sound of voices may still linger.

Like the whiff of a familiar perfume lingers,
old footprints imprinted into the floor,
shadows of memories found around every turn
where in forgotten corners gathers dust,
indents in the carpet left behind like scars,
filtered beams of light cut down the hall.

Ghost seem to drift down the hall,
souls that must still linger
their absence leave an invisible scar,
boards still creak on the wooden floor
and something seems to stir the dust,
a flicker of movement caught at every turn.

Standing alone in a place with no return
walking down the endless hall,
sparks of fire the way light catches the dust,
a scent of cigarette smoke still lingers.
the cold familiar feeling of the floor,
remembering each and every scar.

Marks in the wall like battle scars,
waiting for the sound of the brass knob to turn,
staring at the ceiling while lying on the floor,
tracing fingertips down the hall,
old emotions that still linger,
making angels in the dust.

Hand prints side by side in dust,
a house that itself feels like a scar,
dreams and nightmares still linger
twisting down every turn,
traces of laughter carry down the hall,
feeling the grooves etched in the floor.

Gathering dust around every turn
like a scar slipping down the hall
still it lingers memories left on the floor.