The Walls Remember Everything
I leaned against plaster once,
Felt it pulse beneath my fingers.
Nothing cracked, nothing fell,
And yet it spoke in pressure.
Conversations I never had,
Arguments I refused to join,
Moments I thought forgotten,
Were all alive within the grain.
The house is not haunted by ghosts,
It is haunted by memory itself.
Rooms hum with layered events,
Older than my presence here.
Walls shift subtly when unobserved,
Corners bending toward meaning.
I feel them learn my habits,
And adjust for unseen observation.
Even paint smells differently afterward,
Absorbing intent I do not own.
I leave quietly, mindful of everything,
Knowing the walls are awake.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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By S. A. Crawford2 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
A scary thought if the walls do remember everything. Then again, who am i to say they don't. 🌝🌝