We built our house
Root 12 - A poem inspired by the picture from the previous Root post.
Sometimes I am so inspired by a metaphor that I can’t resist writing a poem, even though I know that’s not really where my writing skill is concentrated. My last Root post included this photo, which impressed one such metaphor upon me.
We built our house
on quicksand.
The difference in our age
would one day be
insignificant, we said,
and so we saw it that way
from the beginning.
Our first kiss was
my first kiss, and I
hated it.
I tried to break up
with you, but you
were too persuasive.
You said I was just
afraid of love,
and I believed you.
The manipulation and naivety
were imperfections in the
concrete we mixed
to pour our foundation;
there was no way it would
ever hold without
cracking. We didn’t use
a level, either.
When you pressured me
into sexual acts I did not
desire, we built our walls
lopsided. So when we
added the roof by getting
married, it caved in on
itself. But we lived
under that roof for
eleven years
before I looked up and
saw the wreck
we’d built. You say
I broke our home.
I didn’t. I realized
our home was
already broken.
Irretrievably so, so I
set the whole safety hazard
mess of a house
on fire, and left.
It’s not my fault
you stood in the flames
and cursed your burns.
Are there any metaphors that have really captured your imagination? Feel free to share below.