in shadows cast
by a broken facade
we once existed
in this old home
stained glass
from hushed secrets
the lies fell one by one
on the ledge
a breath away from freedom
these empty walls
now echo with echos
absorbing words of anger
stale smoke now lingers
through every room
screaming to be heard
but no one there to listen
and somewhere inside
that fragmented place
a part of her is still there
hidden in memories
The Creative Chic 
Just the words from these pages alone illustrate haunting echoes of past darkness. You’re more than beautiful for never being afraid to go there. ❤️
Thank you, probably shouldn’t go there, but sometimes it isn’t too bad.
Gorgeously evocative and melancholic. Fine writing.
Thank you, Chris. I appreciate you.
🙂
Jenn, the image of the house still holding a piece of her inside its memories felt both sad and powerful to me. 🏠💔
Much love,
David
Sometimes, that’s what broken homes do.
Thank you, David. Much love to you too!
If walls could talk Jennifer.
Wonderful writing ❤️
Isn’t that the truth, Maggie. Thank you ❤️
💯 Jennifer!
You are so welcome ❤️
“these empty walls
now echo with echos
absorbing words of anger” …
So eloquently composed – I feel it’s pinpoint perfection. Reading those words invoke me to literally breathe a sign of relief. Is this strange? To some, it may appear so; but to those who know, they most likely can relate.
Ultimately, this reminds me of my Mom and Dad’s home – – Ugh! Such PTSD inducing memories from my childhood years. To this day, I get anxiety on days I got to visit my Mom because being in that house is just pure stress. They have no idea what they’ve done to my brother, sister and I in terms of the memories they’ve left us.
First, let me say that I don’t think it’s strange. I think, unfortunately, some people can relate to some sort of childhood trauma. I guess in one way or another.
I’m sorry that you have that stress and anxiety to this day when you go visit. I don’t think any home (especially a childhood one) should make us feel that way. I think the more unfortunate thing here is that they have no idea, or maybe in some way, they do. I don’t know.
Thank you for sharing part of yourself here. I appreciate you being here.
You’re welcome! 😊
Jenn, this is beautifully haunting. You made the house feel alive, as if it became a witness to every silence, every wound, and every unspoken truth that once lived there. I was especially moved by the ending, because no matter how far we travel from certain places, pieces of ourselves often remain tucked inside their walls, hidden among memories. This poem is a reminder that homes don’t just hold our belongings—they hold our joys, our grief, and the versions of ourselves we once were. Beautifully written. 🤍
I love your comment, so 100% true. Thank you for your kind words, they mean so much to my heart 🤍