Unoccupied

This house is dreary.
The floorboards are dried and squeak underfoot.
If the sun doesn't shine in
there is no light here.
Even when there is sunlight
the shadows are deep and long in the hallways.
So many unused lanterns
with boxes of tea-light candles collecting dust.

If it weren't for the voices
this house would be empty.
I see outlines in the dark,
so I know I'm not alone.
Now I know why you craved the silence.

The graveyard isn't completely abandoned
despite what the rumors say.
The paths are well-worn,
even if the tombstones are overturned and broken.
It feels untouched here,
except for the plastic purple flowers.
Every spare inch of land
is covered in graves and weeds.

If it weren't for the flowers
this place would be empty.
I see them scattered on the ground,
so I know someone cares.
Now I know why you craved the silence.

This body is tired,
though the lungs breathe and the heart beats.
I need the sun to shine
over my ever-darkening sight.
I need purple flowers to bloom on my path
to mark where I've been and where I'm trying to go.
I am lost
in this house and amongst these graves.

If it weren't for the heartbeats
I would be empty.
You were here once,
so I know it isn't just me.
Now I understand why you craved the silence,
but you never left here.

I must get out.