10-16-17

today was gray.

gray like the clouds hanging overhead, though the sun was determined to shine.

gray like the way i felt hearing about your life-

the life you’ve lived without me in it.

i’m not quite sure why i felt so entitled to your days;

i guess i cared so much that i felt like they were mine.

all things fade to gray in time, that much i know for sure.

your stories in my mind were just a snapshot of the truth.

they’ve faded into black and white

and silent, now, they sound

like the rain outside upon the way.

i tried to cry.

today was gray.

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your room – 9/24/17

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.