Residence

The hall was dark. 

Several voices come to me. Mocking me as if I could hear.

There was wind coming through the window. 

I felt the cold through the edge of my skirt.

There were walls to which I can lean a little, and I did.

I meandered through the empty space, as I put and lift my hand

One after the other flat on the wall.

I felt the floor. It was hard. Bricks.

Slate, uneven, they were probably chafing

Before it was coated with resin.

Flaws, unshapely deformities,

Forgotten, like how rocks usually are.

There was a time that I believed in God.

I believed in Him before I realized that the hall was dark.

And it was dark not because of the absence of light.

It is my dwelling place.

I rented it out nevertheless.

I know where the door is.

The shape of the carvings on wood.

the creaking sound if turned,

the sudden influx of light when opened.

I looked at the direction to it.

I gave it the most intent glare that I can muster.

Stare. Through the blank space called darkness.

I lovingly put down the blanket on the floor,

lovingly feeling the roughness of the resin coated bricks.

contentedly leaning my head on the wall;

Humming slow songs, screaming with upbeat songs;

Chanting the long forgotten history.

Closing my eyes, and finally turning my back to the door.

This hallway is my house.