The Voice of my Possessions

She was a free spirit,

Says the bright green paint and black ink quotes on her wall.

She enjoyed natural smells,

says the sandalwood incense still smoldering on her desk.

She was obsessive,

says the perfectly placed perfume bottles in the drawer.

She had a temper,

cried that dented sheet rock covered up in her closet.

These were her things,

and they were all she had,

cries the lights and the bags, the clothes and the empty trash can.

She wanted to be free of this town,

say the words that come pouring out of her journal.

She loved the sister that left,

says the picture taped onto her mirror.

She held onto the past,

says the dust covered box on the top shelf.

She traveled and formed a family,

cries the letters hanging on her tack board.

These were her things,

and they were all she had

cries the melodic choir of bed sheets and music, posters and alarm clocks.