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  • A ruin, a house no more a home,
    paneless windows in a peeling facade,
    walls buckled, bowed,
    tilting towards collapse,
    studs eaten out by rot,
    supporting roofless rafters
    laid bare by the ravages of storms that swept
    relentlessly through my life.

    An empty doorway framed in rotted wood,
    beyond its threshold rooms decaying,
    papered walls mildewed, peeling
    in long strips rustled by a wind
    that long ago swept clean a hearth
    now dark and icy cold.

    These is no friend, no lover to wonder
    what brings me to a place of such desolation,
    in the dead of night,
    to stand in darkness
    seeking what was lost over a lifetime
    of angry words and sullen silences
    and a thousand tiny wounds inflicted casually.

    A ruin, a place of memories,
    of people loved and now long lost,
    of dreams dancing, fading, slipping away,
    leaving only tears frozen by a bitter wind
    as numbing as the northern night.
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