You are an attic that my thoughts are still lost in.
Your mind is cluttered with ideas, kindness, secrets and confessions,
all covered under thick dusty blankets of bland conversations.
Every time the sun hit a part of your mind,
you revealed a memory and I like a child
oohed and ahhed at this over told story.
Despite the floorboards creaking “baby you don’t mean a thing” and dust lingering with the goodbye that will never be said,
it was my favorite place.
I would try bringing up my own newspaper clippings and photo albums but there never was enough room in this attic I suppose.
I remember one night I spotted poetry painted on the wall
hidden behind a pile of blankets and your record player voice cracked with the words ‘you're beautiful’ and ‘you're perfect’.
But maybe the words were already painted for somebody else
and You’re voice caught on the vinyl of the moment.
Darling they told me that a family from Utah is
moving in next week,
I hope they treat you well.
Darling the door has been locked and boarded without a warning
I saw this prompt on twitter one time and really was inspired to write on it. I liked this guy so much and to be honest still do. It seems like we talked about him a lot so that was the bland conversations and over told stories part. I knew he didn't think of me the same way and I knew we were never going to talk about things that I wanted to discuss. We had kissed and cuddled a lot and he told me those words about beauty and perfection but I don't think he meant them. He was leaving for college in Utah. He seems to be doing just fine. Things are done and over with.