The Ruins Regina Khloie Maderazo
You slip into the cracks of yesterday; my hands dart out to prevent your fall. I’d rather have what is left of you than to have nothing of yours at all. The cobblestones underneath my bare feet shiver and shake, longing for your return. The home we built has crumbled from the heat, and I, alone, am left to watch it burn. I trudge through memories, looking for our last, my hands longing for the heat of your skin. Is it wrong of me to wallow in the past if it's the only place I could find you in? Time devours the memory of you and I, its lips grinning as I sift through the ruins of us; Time knows I am a fool clinging to a lie— a wayfarer searching for a home that never was. 18
