Memory house

Dust in the walkway.

Lights long burned out.

Echoes of laughter.

I step through.

Past the dust.

Past the memories.

It is dark.

The cold air rushes through me.

It is cold.

There is nothing left for me here.

I step through rooms.

They miss the warmth they used to know.

This house is sad.

I feel it's heart breaking.

I am it's only visitor.

Because I am the only one who remembers.

The pain.

The sorrow.

My death.