House of Broken Dreams

A poem about the eventual divorce of my dad & stepmother.

We won't fix the hole in the wall;
I don't care anymore:
Sell it and get out.
We won't fix the hole in the wall;
Sell it and get out.

When the realtor comes next week,
I don't want you here.
Don't sulk around some bedroom corner,
Interrupting as she speaks.
When the realtor comes next week,
I don't want you here.
Don't torture her with some grand tour
Of bedrooms lost and bathrooms past.

Who keeps the photos --
Our wedding photos?
Should I burn them with my memories
Of how things started off to be?
Who keeps the photos --
Our wedding photos?
Who keeps the photos?
Our kids don't get along,
And our enemies are us.

This house is a collection of junk;
10 years of junk.
You've got your corners, I've got mine;
Go get your junk --
Go bring it to your mom's,
I don't want any of you here.
This house is a collection of junk;
10 years of junk.
I've got CDs you won't listen to:
10 years of junk.
You've got photos your dad took:
10 years of junk.

Which one of us will keep the dog?
I want the cat.
Which one of us will take the rug?
I want the knives.

I wish you would leave,
But we both keep on staying.
I won't fix the door --
Sell it and get out.
I won't fix the wall --
I don't care anymore,
Sell it and get out.

Author's Note

This would almost be me branching in to a lyrical style, instead of my usual quatrains.

Reviews

[Dove]

amazing, it definitely feels broken but its a really nice piece. You are a good writer, never stop writing!

[msharma]

Feels really broken with the images presented.