Untitled #9

A trundle full of broken memories

Faded scents, laughter long gone

your attic is the place of my 

love. The place of the birth of my love.

Walk in climb up

creaking ladders surprisingly silent

they know I need this.

Aching in the corner of my mind

"freedom" is so far away

Bike rides, turn pikes

I'm listening to the same

My eyelids feel heavy

i don't care though

The whisper of memories 

cloak themselves in golden haze

that suffocates where I've been

who I was and who I want to be.

Windows smudged, can you still see

my soul? Are you looking?

Are you searching? Can you

come find me?

Balloons popping hurts my flinching

eyes.

awake. I am awake.

The window is a postcard

of my backyard.

As I think of it, 

it is sent to you

I hope you breathe it

in. and let it settle.

deep deep down. Let it simmer.