My Home.

My home.

Walls so sturdy and firm even the heaviest experiences will hold.

Photos in leaden frames, large smiles behind glass thick with dust.

I stand back, examining my life, fragmented and stained with longing,

A mausoleum for my misplaced affections.

Moments of love captured through the lens of sadness, now hanging on my walls.

Walls so sturdy and firm, even the heaviest experiences will hold.

Today, I see a crack.

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Not sure how I feel about this. I'm worried it's too sentimental and isn't really saying anything that interesting or honest. I work too deeply in elaborate metaphores. I want to come out of my literary shell and speak from the heart. I like the idea of the last line but I don't feel it really fits.

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