By Fadrian Bartley

Old houses never die,
they breathe from what remains,
dust and memories,
and a few torn curtains ushered by the wind.

The nude walls stripped of their clothing,
and the history of secrets
tortured themselves inside of it.
Silence by the empty reflection,
the floors had footsteps which 

don’t belong to their rightful owner,
the windows had eyes no more,
but sees only in the twilight,
when dark memories pay their visits,
the kind that never go away by prayers.

But linger before the kindness of dawn approaches,
such places have so many things to whisper,
by touching the walls reveal yesterday,
quietly listened,
and the silence speaks
inside of them,

feeding hungrily on the fear
of anyone who invaded
such a shallow place.
before the sun sneaks
behind the thick masses of the empyrean.

It is better to leave
before the old curtains brush
against your face,
and the door slams unexpectedly.

It is when they return,
sometimes they do,
as they waited in the thirst
of history,
old folks never left their territories unattended,

And when they arrive
to whisper their prayers,
whoever they find
must stay and share the offering of their horrors.

About The Author

Fadrian Bartley lives in Kingston Jamaica. He writes poetry in various themes such as horror, thrillers, high fantasy, life, nature, inspiration, and people’s personalities. His work appears in the R.F.D Magazine, “First Time” issue #173 in 2018, and online web magazines such as Aphelion magazine with his poem “Annabell’ published in 2020 and the Wild Sound Film Festival where you can find his poem “Daughter of the Dust”.

Fadrian is a front desk agent with a diploma in customer service. He writes mostly at night with his cat sitting beside his lamp. He can be reached on Facebook and on Instagram @artexerexes

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