i could build a house with all these thoughts, fill it up with all my days.
i could build a room for you if perhaps you’d like to stay.
there’d be old wood on the floor since i’ve loved you for so long
and curtains on the windows i’ll keep closed when you are gone.
i’ll throw these papers on the walls, cover white with words of you
and maybe they’ll all make sense-
who knew that walls could speak so true?
i’ll make a bed for you to sleep in, stuff the pillows with your lies
so that you’ll feel right at home on top of all your loosely cloaked goodbyes.
i’ll paint a picture in a frame and leave it on the desk
of who you made me think you are, an open heart upon your chest.
i’ll leave it there for you to see, though you won’t recognize your face-
to see all the good inside yourself compiled in one place.
i’ll weld a lock upon the door, mold it with my all-too-trusting hands.
i’ll set the key down on the floor so you’re the only one who can
go inside, if you wish. i’ve been in there for too long.
i’ve sat upon the chair that you gave me with your songs
of better days and hopes and dreams. i felt your comfort in the creaks
of the dresser drawers you painted with your many gold beliefs.
i held your shirts in my hands to feel the softness of your voice
until one day i finally left the room, finally by choice.
though the room is locked and way upstairs, sometimes i hear you walking.
like a ghost inside my mind, sometimes i hear you talking.
but the words just drift away, much like you did overtime
so i open up the windows to feel the quiet breeze outside.