On the floor I focus on my breathing
all the times I have hyperventilated here
there is no problem so small that it cannot be solved by hey jude
eyes closed
the ceiling fan creates shadows that dance across my eyelids
my memories my presence destruction
pressed petals in the pages
preservation
my bed reminds me that I used to fear my pillow
how many tears did it absorb
this warm comfortable place where
fictional characters bled into my dreams
Did I give the life to this place it used to breathe so vividly
I wrote my secrets into the walls and trusted them to understand
paint is paint is layers of gray and only I know of the blue underneath
I have moved on and had firsts elsewhere
thank you