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Habit
This is the house that habit built
I call it my shallow grave
I constructed it without a roof
So that I can feel the rain.
There are locks on all the doors
To keep the strangers out?
And everything is solid
To leave no room for doubt.
I peer from 3rd floor windows
Out at the world below
It's somewhere that I long to blend
But know I can never go.
I'd construct a rope twined from my mistakes
For you to scale to my side
But the coarsened fibers of my regrets
Would burn you deep inside.
This is the house that habit built.
Jessica Hoskins
Email: Jessica Hoskins
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