The Show Place

The house was antiseptically clean,
Cold and sterile
With everything in its place
Except for me.
There was plastic covering the chairs
And not a speck of dust anywhere
As if hermetically sealed
And meant for
Some other time than this.
It was decorated
With exquisite taste,
Expensive artwork and lighting,
Yet flavorless all the same.
There was something missing
And I didn’t feel comfortable there.
It was a house meant for show
But definitely not for living.