It’s almost like it didn’t even happen
Only segments of thoughts and nothing concrete —
I can’t tell you a memory, I can only explain how it feels
It’s hazy like smoke stinging my eyes at the lake in August
The balmy heat sticking to my skin
Eating trail mix when I’m sweaty
Touching the person in front of you and
Saying ‘goodbye’ to the person beside you
I took off the rose-coloured glasses because I didn’t need them anymore;
They were foggy, anyway.
And when I looked in the mirror I remembered,
“Oh, it’s you.”
The sky is turning pink not from embarrassment but because it’s going to rain
In the morning when I’ll wake up and notice
Oops
My curtains are stained with red wine.
Well, that’s not going to come out
But who really cares; people stain things on purpose
Send me your favourite song and I’ll listen to it every day
Until it’s my own vibrato
My love language is walking to the grocery store when I don’t need groceries
I threw out all the lidless Tupperware because it’s useless
And I feel guilty for calling it useless.
“It’s so hard to write about yourself,” I agreed.
I only want to write about other people
But I’ll wake up with myself for the rest of my life
So, I should give it a good shot.
This place was once filled with everyone I love laughing and
Now it’s like I’m showing up to a party and
Scanning the crowd for a face or a laugh that I recognize better than my own
To sink into like that old brown couch
A house is only four walls but
If the walls could talk they would bark or scream and tell us to go to bed
Or maybe they would be cool walls and tell us to keep going,
‘Come on, you’re only 22.
I know you’re tired but this is a night you’ll want to talk about tomorrow.’
And the next day
Until it settles into the seamless streams of nights that become tomorrows.
We’re not going on a trip anymore
It’s a suitcase that will never fully get unpacked
To a new set of four walls that will listen to our stories and watch us happen.
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