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The house

2026

Somewhere in a house, in a meadow far removed from the noise of the city

A tap stands open

and the steady sound of running water can be heard

The oak ceiling, in parts detached from it’s beams, moves up and down, creaking with the blows of the wind

 

The house that’s

Abandoned now

Nothing more than an apparent ruin

seems left to it’s own devices

The walls didn’t consider the last shut of the door

as final

As uncompleted by a click of the lock and steps returning inside 

 

Now the occasional curious visits 

But doesn’t greet the house 

They hide behind baklavas, hooded sweaters 

Enter through non consented gates

and scare the house awake

amidst its peace


You need to know 

The house no longer waits for the owner to come back and claim the property 
No, it has

Built its own walls and

Befriended the weeds seeping through the tiles and 

the vine that has come creeping in 

The rooms that felt separate, the floors that used to distinguish themselves by level, now breathe as one body

 

From the ache of being left unlived, there is nothing left

The house found a life of its own. 

    © 2025 by Iris ten Have. Proudly created with Wix.com

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