Echoes in a Mansion Built for Love”
Seven rooms of silence in a house too wide for me,
I wander through the hallways where our laughter used to be.
I pass the empty bedrooms, ghosts of promises still near,
footsteps of a future that just vanished in the mirror.
I sit inside this quiet where the walls don’t even speak,
where every clock ticks louder like it’s mocking me each week.
No friends to break the stillness, no family at my side—
just the storms inside my chest and all the tears I cannot hide.
Every door feels like an exit someone used to run away,
every window shows a world that turns colder every day.
The man I loved—the one I vowed to weather every fight—
stares at me in memory with eyes stripped of their light.
He looked at me like empty space, like nothing worth his time,
and every word he threw at me was cruelty in rhyme.
Death stares where love once lived, rejection sharp as steel,
and I swear it tore a hole in me no beating heart can heal.
I gave him all the fire that my stubborn soul could store,
but he dropped it like an ember he didn’t want anymore.
Now his silence hits like thunder, his absence like a blade,
and the love I held so fiercely is a debt he never paid.
The whispers in my mind won’t sleep; they claw and twist and creep,
telling me I’m unwanted, that I’m buried in too deep.
I feel the weight of being left, abandoned, pushed aside—
like someone locked me in this house and swallowed up my pride.
But I am not the villain in their bitter little play,
I’m the woman who stood loyal when the cowards ran away.
They block me, curse me, shame me—yet I still refuse to break,
’cause even shattered queens like me have crowns they cannot take.
This house may feel like punishment, a lonely, hollow tomb,
but one day it’ll be sanctuary, not a dark and silent room.
And though tonight I ache so deep it trembles in my bones,
I know a spark inside me still refuses to die alone.
So let them turn their backs on me, let them choke on all their lies,
I’ll rise from this damn emptiness with new fire in my eyes.
’Cause even when I’m lonely, even when I fall apart—
I’m stronger than the memories that tried to crush my heart.
And maybe now I’m wounded, maybe now I’m filled with dread—
but I’ll survive this seven-bedroom hell
’cause I’m not done.
Not dead.
foxy_flux
