The Memory of You

It’s a strong collage, a scent of burning

wood and dead leaves.

It’s the uneasy feeling of a quiet 

dead house of a broken family. 

The loud bark of a small dog that never stops.

Halloween decorations wrecked by the

wind that we took hours to put up.

The drive to your house was my favorite—

I could get there with my eyes closed.

But little did I know,

when I would open them again, it was

no longer your house.

An imposter, a ghost—they must’ve taken you.