Tuesday, 11 November 2014

The Room

On the pages of the accidental poetry notebook
Is a poem about a room, the one that makes the poet incredibly happy
For every day she finds pieces of herself in it
And revels in the chaos that the room shows her to be

But now that she has gone away
The room feels like something else to her
For every time she returns to it, it seems bigger and older
Reminds her of days that seem way back in the past
And all her favorite things belong somewhere else now
The stories she left behind are now covered in dust
And that always makes her sneeze
Sleep comes with great difficulty at night.

She can’t decide who is to be blamed
For the way she has changed,
Or for how the room has hardly changed at all
It still looks at her as the person she used to be
And every time she leaves, she whispers
this room no longer belongs to me.



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