urn/body | oleander/house | a poem

take me up to my room,

body that I trust so much

too much

I’ve never let anyone else into my room ever since

*

I believe that he died but he kept on living in his past

that was shared by the living

*

yes, he perished, but he was still in that house

*

the house that felt like home, the house that haunts me still

*

I never felt like I was the only one in a room

but the only one that could be seen

*

p e r c e i v e

me

still

*

his whole world collapsed

and his urn contained him

*

upon his death

I became a different person altogether

*

saw the cracks in your person

the cracks cannot change

the person cannot change

I need to adapt to the cracks

I need to contort my behaviour

unseen, unheard, disappear

until the cracks ask for me

and intend to devour me

the cracks grew

and I shrank

open mouth

amuse-bouche

*

he’s still in that house

reliving death

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2021 | Instagram: @melpomenepaintings

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