Your House (part three)

Ivy creeps across the walls,
cloaks the dirty windows,
blankets out the sun.
And the moths that pressed their noses
to the glass, in their attemps
to flutter dizzily around the bulb
have scorched their wings and burnt alive.

Behind the dusty, half-drawn curtains,
the window panes would shiver
with every tiny secret, as they tried
like flies to escape outside.
So I cracked the window
and set them free;

likewise the skeleton, slumped in my closet,
and whom I dragged and buried outside.
At times I wish I'd kept him with me,
a bit of company
because I'm lonelier than ever now.