• Tara Lundrigan

Yellow House

Wandering through these soulless hallways - I feel like a ghost, searching endlessly.

Empty, void, suffocating, the only sound - the beat of an aching heart, creaks in the decaying floor boards vibrating in my mind and up through my legs.

A door, the exit - a light at the end of the tunnel. A light breeze urges me forward.

Cautiously I open the door - and as oxygen was taken from my chest, it was replaced with sterile air. My search for happiness?

No sound around me, not even my heartbeat, muted by the blankets of snow that cover the earth to insulate her - it beckons me forward

A lighthouse guiding a ship safely to shore.

I need to face my prison one last time for catharsis, turning slowly - I gasp.

I see it for the first time.

A yellow house, visibly expanding, no breathing, because it cannot contain the love and warmth inside.

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