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| Not gonna show you the house but this was the land it stands on. |
The house’s breath slows
As it is stripped of its title;
A source of warmth,
A buzz of laughter,
The one home to all.
The house stood static,
Rooted to the ground,
Tethered to all its temporary occupants,
Its garden wilted with no one watering it,
Its kitchen cold with no one to cook for.
The house,
Built out of love,
Still standing as proof of love,
The shelter of all ghosts we long for.
May it forgive,
For the loneliness it’s subjected to,
For another one year.
260330 / come home - newton brothers
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It's no secret that I love The Haunting of Hill House. In fact, as Halloween is nearing, it's the number one show I'm looking forward to rewatching. The above poem, my dear friends, was heavily influenced by Hill House and the feeling of melancholy that comes with leaving your childhood home after a long holiday. My late grandparents' house is my favourite place on earth, but my favourite place isn't the same without my favourite people, i.e. my family. The house always looks lonely as we leave it, one by one.
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