THIS HOUSE

This house,
Yes, a treasure chest of sounds,
Creaking noises,
White lights,
Experiences
Calling every hair to attention.
Even in midday.

Today
I thought I heard a door opening,
But when I looked,
Only the breeze
Playfully announcing
Its wistful presence.

Today,
I thought I smelled your cologne,
But when I looked, 
Only the curtains
Slowly dancing
With the wistful breeze,
Spreading
The gentle lingering remnants
Of Your obsession,
Perhaps my obsession.

Today,
I thought I heard footsteps,
But when I looked,
Only footprints
Like the ones forever softly
Embedded in my heart.

Oh, how I miss you.

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