another poem.

I sit alone in an empty house
Our empty house.

No walls, no floors only
Windows
And the sound of crickets.

The unfinished business
Of building a house
Our house
Our home
Consumes me.

It’s dark and I walk
Down the stairs
Inching. Thinking that
I may be blind someday.

And I feel like I might fall
So I touch the unfinished wall
To steady me, and think
If I am blind someday
I should learn how to walk down
These stairs in the dark.

Then I think maybe I am
Already blind.
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