The House of Hurt

I was once this country mouse in a big city house

blending in by wearing masks of tusks and feathers.

It’s where we’d met, smoking sunflowers,

 stargazing at our intricate patterns in snow trails.

That time, I tried to behave.

Yet he carried me beyond boundaries to new expectations

where initial inhibitions were annihilated by his words.

There we imprinted on doors never meant to shut

and where his true grit got my attention.

So, to look for this devil

Just follow the carnage of the many souls he’s stripped bare

And you might find the inner darkness of my soul’s desires.

It’s where he once owned me, this feminine flame that got burnt

And how he unbuttoned me and didn’t button me back-up.

I became the rollercoaster crush that made the skyline cry

Left inside a silent house once shared, but never called home,

that’s now the past of a painter’s dream.

So, welcome to my war zone,

I’ll be the weed leaning against this bar room wall

watching all the pretty flowers battle for the gardener’s attention.

I’ll be here waiting for visiting hours to start

inside this housed hospital of hurt hearts

it’s a place for all those puzzles

 with too many lost pieces that have fallen apart.

 

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3 thoughts on “The House of Hurt

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