Through the Looking Glass

Pictures that once lined the wall
have fallen,
they lay scattered on the floor,
their frames broken
their glass casing shattered.

Beautiful,
smiling faces
captured in time
long forgotten.

Shards of sharp crystals
Plunge into my pale, bare feet
as I walk the empty hall
Ruby red blood pooling
under my every step.

The empty space where the memories once hung
isolated in a happier time and place
remains the same color it was
on move-in day,
bright
fresh
new
while the rest of the house bares a decaying coat of grey

My fingers dance along the splintered trim
Wincing with each prick
Wincing at the hollow grief
resting low in my chest.

This house holds a million and one memories

My hand reaches into my pocket
and lingers a while.

My nails scratch at the flint wheel
while I caress the bottom case softly.

And then,
Like it is nothing to me,
I pick up the closest picture.

We're young,
his red hair
and blue eyes
his arms around me.

I pop the lid
to a small flame
hold it to the memory
as I watch it burn
dropping it to the ground
where the others rest in peace

I walk slowly down the hall
of  my old home
my old life
my brother
whose soul rests
while ours still ache on.

The flames crawl up the walls
consume the floor boards
and grab at the painted moulding

They lick the old, dusty curtains
and burst the fragile bulbs
They begin to roar with anger
as they reach for more and more.

I make my way up our creaking stairs
and down two doors
-Through the looking glass
a young girl sits
playing with her dolls
She's content.
Quiet.
She looks just like me.

But as I reach for her
The flames devour me.
My soul
eaten up in a blind rage of grief
despair
and losing what you love.

Just like that
I am
Broken.