I reach for it
though I know it isnt there.
Because
like a sparkle in a sea,
the illusion in a trick,
it threads a fine line
between the truth and a lie;
between memories and reality.
Invisible to everyone but me.
My eyes,
the only ones blessed
to lay upon it.
And so I ask myself:
is my life like this ghost?
This ghost of a house;
which,
after it has fallen,
crumbled into nothing,
has forever been forgotten.
Remember only by someone
who, like me,
has memories of something
which will never truly die away. |
Submission Name: The House of Memories
