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  • Writer's pictureBloomfield College Underground

'Empty' by Emely Cintron

Empty


This house is no home—

It is not warm

It is not colorful

It is not noisy


It is not welcoming, Nothing is welcomed


Even though I give so many people keys to enter,

Every attempt has failed;

The door would not open


Why is it that I do not have the key to my own house?


Locked and Hallow

I collect dust, the wooden floors age, and the pipes rust,

Creaks and drips

Will I ever hear more than just the spider weaving its web?


*Click*


A new sound echoes the house

The door –


IT OPENED


Light enters with its guest’s warmth, and every beautiful member of the rainbow

I am not furnished, dusted, and fixed

I feel like a home

I feel at home


As quickly as this beauty came, it left.

Now, I relentlessly search for him. . .

The only person who could unlock my doors

And when I find him, I will bring him to my home

Whether anyone else wants him to or not



Whether he wants to or not. . .

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