POETRY | BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

A house stood alone in a lonely barren field,
carrying a forlorn heart, grieving—unhealed.
The sun refused to shine upon this spot
where two people once tied the knot.

Windows were broken and chains were unleashed
inside old letters—torn and creased.
Photographs were gone into the abyss;
were all once a memory of bliss.

The rooms have remained empty,
until a ring broke the silence faintly.
But no one answered the phone
because none of us made it home.

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