No Resolve

The house still stands, a monument to silence

Cracks in the plaster like lines on a weathered face

Each one a story whispered, then swallowed by the years

Dust motes dance in the sunbeams

Illuminating ghosts of laughter that never truly bloomed

A child's drawing, faded blue crayon, clinging to the fridge

A frozen moment of what could have been

The echoes of shouting

Sharp edges that cut deep and never healed

Words, like rusted blades, left scattered on the floor