The vanishing room

The imperfectly beautiful the room was the medium a wondering mind...Only memories running behind my eyes... Only cruel imagination teasing my senses.

 

 

In my anxiousness inspired.

 

The imperfectly beautiful the room was the medium for a wondering mind.

 

A silver candy bowl bare of the chocolate convections that distracted boredom.

A mirror silently reflecting the blank, sunflower yellow walls, the other dimension quiet as this one.

 

No one moving about.

Just the thoughts of the lone girl in the Victorian fabric chair.

 

Plants anchoring two corners of the room, breathing, unnoticed by the quiet.

Untouched books residing with dust on the mahogany  table.

 

Your presence is soft, scarce disturbing the air.

The essence of your scent a mingling of lemons and warm cinnamon.

The carpet under my shifting feet is worn, rubbed by too many a anxious awaiting soul.

 

You lean like a statue paused in mid-movement, brining subtle difference to the room.

Your cocked smile like a sweetness shadowing mischievous intention.

 

You observe with curious expression how my gaze travels though thin air to the mirror.

It is only the sunflower yellow walls that the glass sees.

 

A playing sadness moves inside me.

You are not there.

 

Only memories running behind my eyes.

Only cruel imagination teasing my senses.

 

You are a vanishing image as you peer at me, reflecting my grief.

 

I love you, but your gone.