Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Dear Motel Room 17, Do you remember my face? I know you probably don’t, but I need this and that’s okay because the only things I remember of you are of him. I don’t remember the color of your walls. but the red in his face. I don’t remember what blanket was on the bed but sleeping next to him, underneath of it. I don’t remember the paintings you hung up but the “Do Not Disturb” sign he hung on the door. I remember the long nights spent in your confinement, but can’t remember how to get there anymore. The one thing I’ll never forget is number 17 because I was 17 and I thought he was the world. How could the world fit into your paper thin walls? It couldn’t. It didn’t. I’m sorry that’s all I remember but I can’t get either of you out of my head. and I’d really, really like to forget.
0
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 2:07 PM UTC
seventeen.
Dear Motel Room 17, Do you remember my face? I know you probably don’t, but I need this and that’s okay because the only things I remember of you are of him. I don’t remember the color of your walls. but the red in his face. I don’t remember what blanket was on the bed but sleeping next to him, underneath of it. I don’t remember the paintings you hung up but the “Do Not Disturb” sign he hung on the door. I remember the long nights spent in your confinement, but can’t remember how to get there anymore. The one thing I’ll never forget is number 17 because I was 17 and I thought he was the world. How could the world fit into your paper thin walls? It couldn’t. It didn’t. I’m sorry that’s all I remember but I can’t get either of you out of my head. and I’d really, really like to forget.
genevro
Written by
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 2:07 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem