Wednesday, April 3, 2013


there are white walls
blank canvases
to hang smiles upon
captured moments
empty wood floors
awaiting the sound
of bare feet
quiet steps in
the early hours of the morning
sitting in front of the television
watching saturday morning cartoons
eating cereal from my favorite bowl
forgetting I've been
an adult for years now.
there is clean air
that has not been made into
angry black mold clinging to
remnants of what is living
growing within walls
hidden from the eyes of visitors
to multiply
after midnight
dead now from
exposure to light.
there are open doors
without any hesitation
windows open to the future
where i can exhale
within a home decorated
with new memories
born of the briefest moments
those seconds
when his face
would rest at my forehead
never knowing
i was always home

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