The Home We Won’t Share

I stand at the doorstep of our faded past,
a house once warm with laughter, now so cold,
the key still in my pocket, rusted fast,
but locks have changed; the story has grown old.

The windows show a view I can’t forget,
familiar roads that wind through yesterday,
yet every step I take brings deep regret,
for paths we carved have crumbled to decay.

Each room still holds the echoes of our song,
but walls have shifted, sealing me outside,
I long to knock, but know it would be wrong,
for in that home, only memories now reside.

I wander near, like shadows in the night,
a distant star I chased, but never caught.
Drawn to the light that flickers out of sight,
I reach, but always find the path is fraught.

The garden blooms with flowers we once grew,
their fragrance calls me back to where I’ve stayed
but time has pruned the roses from my view
and left behind a thorn where love once laid.

I linger at the threshold of our dreams,
a ghost who haunts a place that isn’t mine,
the door is closed, though close it always seems,
and I can’t cross the line you’ve drawn in time.

Yet still I yearn for what was never meant:
a home where we could find our way again,
but truth, like bricks, has built a firm lament,
no open door, just walls that block the pain.

So here I stay, a traveler lost in thought,
homesick for a love that slipped away.
I know I can’t return to what I sought,
but in my heart, that house will always stay.