All things pass,
Leaving their scars
Upon our skin.

Moments of ecstasy.
All of it, fleeting
Yet stubborn,
Fixed in its place.

The remains are there
For all to see,
A reminder not of who I am,
But of how
I have been made.

What can I be
But a palimpsest of
My experiences?

Shaped by how
I have lived.
Living by how
I have been


Home: Poetry 101 Rehab

This poem is a response to Mara Eastern’s Poetry 101 Rehab prompt Home.


Walking around this empty place,
The one I called my home.
It somehow doesn’t feel the same,
This house I used to know.

These walls that used to keep us safe,
Right now they look so weak,
Crumbling away to nothingness,
As floorboards snap and creak.

This house I used to call my own,
That made me who I am today.
Now it serves no purpose here,
Just sits and waits as it decays.