here are the house,
the room, the window -
shadows slither down walls
inure to the still-born;
the water that weeps
in the pipes
the ceiling listens
to the lamentations of wind
and branch; to whatever
vilifies the mercurial rhythms
of rapture
the window aches - in vain
its darkened eyes try to ostracize
the leafless rain, its liquid
trains of thorns
here I wait for you
to alleviate the void:
this tragic house, this room,
this window -
with the magnanimity
of skin against skin,
the birth of two shadows
on rapturous walls,
your blood that sings
in my pipes
till then
my house aches
Silver trophy winner
Adding your comment:
- thanks, sora 
!!
Love you right back, Woman...
… well this was just beautiful so will of ache, and that melancholy of watching your home, just ache to break the cold silence created out of loneliness and perhaps wait, to see this one come home… that Is how I feel now, you portrait through this poem what I feel.. and I haven’t been able to write, “here I wait for you” this line reminds me so much of Neruda’s poem, here I love you… I also must add this poem describe so well the sadness of a house, from the ceiling to the windows, just wonderful, well hopefully one day our homes will not longer be empty, and as for the contest, best of wishes, although you don’t needed, as I asked words for this contest.. as well.. not sure I want to enter… when you are already in 
You do so impress me with your extremely unique metaphors and your wonderful way with words. ~sigh, I think this has just became my new favorite by you. 
