House of Echoes

The car stops. The front door is a stranger.

It’s the same address, but the paint is wrong. 

The garden is neat.

My key doesn't fit this new, cold lock.

I see the window of my old room. 

The glass is the same, but the light inside is not mine.

I press my hand to the weathered brick. 

It feels like nothing.

In my mind, the wallpaper is blue.

The floorboards still creak by the kitchen step. 

At least, they remember me.

Now, the house is an empty shell.

A forgotten boat washed ashore.

Only the ghosts of laughter

Hang in the space between the walls.

I whisper your name at the dusty mailbox. 

The silence answers.

The years have changed this structure, made the rooms small.

But my mind is a locked drawer, 

And inside, the floor plan is perfect, bright, and whole.

I can’t go back in. 

The door to that time is sealed forever.

Only the memory is home.