decay

blood running red atop torn-up tiles
dripping from a crack in the wall that formed overnight
the creaks get louder every day
(they’re deafening now)
and the paint, a little more faded
(was it always this grey?)
a wanton wind shakes the foundation
threatening to carry off what’s left

good thing the door still locks
even if it’s papier-mâché

One thought on “decay

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