When your curtains were blue,
We would swim through each other,
Like ghosts, making love.
Our fingers emoting what our faces could not,
We spoke in tongues, as I touched your heart
And slowly disintegrated into dust.
You breathed me in, and I filled your lungs,
You breathed me out, and clung to nothingness
Desperately trying to catch me,
As I danced around in the air.
When your curtains were red,
We walked through fire,
Our feet callous and resistant to the heat,
The rest of us, tender and melting.
As if we were made from sheets of plastic,
Perfectly molded imperfections,
Barbie and Ken, in their dream house in hell.
Inviting Satan over to dinner parties.
When your curtains were black,
I would cry for sunlight, or those small wired twinkle lights
That we would hang around Christmas time.
You would harvest my eyes every night,
Blinded by their dull shine,
And I'd stare at you, with gaping holes
Frightened and uneasy, as you looked through me
And into my brain.
Could you see my thoughts then?
Exposed, like a fresh cut to the elements
Stinging from dirt.
When you took your curtains down,
Everything faded from exposure to sunlight,
Our bedsheets no longer vibrant and inviting,
My drawings on the wall now brittle, empty pages
I don't remember the walls being this shade of yellow,
So pale, like my skin. Everything looked old,
And felt like death.
-SLuR