Jul 2016
This room is full of too much, it's loaded with boxes but the clutter is not what is getting to me, making it so hard to breathe.
This room is full of too many things, it's loaded down with the past that's choking me and the distant memories.
I love coming home but not back to this, it reaches into my heart and pulls out suppressed blooms and faded bliss.
I love coming home but not to this room, if I'm in here for long I'll succumb to the gloom.
This room is too noisy, please be quiet.
I can't stand to stand in here,
I should get what I need and get going, get clear.
Was that your laughter echoing through these barren walls?
No, stop it, deep breath in and let it go, I've only got deep scars from your claws.
Too many good memories here to out weigh the silence of me sitting on the edge of the bed....crying....deeply breathing.
Too many drunk nights spent sitting here wondering, was I truly wondering or was I trapped in another nightmare.
This room is too cloudy.
It's filled full of smoke from the wicks of the candles I spent hours burning to barely light up this room.
The dim, bleak light of the candles would flow across the scattered posters upon my ceiling and walls then bounce around the corners and end up down the empty hall.
Inhale, exhale, more smoke arises to mask any and all blurred thoughts spreading from my mouth.
Inhale the scent of a once fruitful love, exhale out the pain for the tears I've never shed.
This room is a distant stranger now and that's fine by me because I'm clear of the danger, my mind is a different level above that sea.
There was a bomb blast that cast the dust that lays about this room so still like a deserted car.
The blast ruined every bit of what we knew would never last.
I wish I could've shielded myself better, it would've saved me the time of writing you those letters.
I finally saw you though, it's been so long, about two years.
I saw you and a thought inside my clicked.
The thought that you weren't what I needed, I'm glad you went away, that you conceded.
That room of mine has some hidden treasures, some hidden paintings, books bound with leather.
That room of mine still sits so full,
I'll end this letter now,
I'll put down this tool.
This room is full of too many things, it's loaded down with the past that's choking me and the distant memories.
I love coming home but not back to this, it reaches into my heart and pulls out suppressed blooms and faded bliss.
I love coming home but not to this room, if I'm in here for long I'll succumb to the gloom.
This room is too noisy, please be quiet.
I can't stand to stand in here,
I should get what I need and get going, get clear.
Was that your laughter echoing through these barren walls?
No, stop it, deep breath in and let it go, I've only got deep scars from your claws.
Too many good memories here to out weigh the silence of me sitting on the edge of the bed....crying....deeply breathing.
Too many drunk nights spent sitting here wondering, was I truly wondering or was I trapped in another nightmare.
This room is too cloudy.
It's filled full of smoke from the wicks of the candles I spent hours burning to barely light up this room.
The dim, bleak light of the candles would flow across the scattered posters upon my ceiling and walls then bounce around the corners and end up down the empty hall.
Inhale, exhale, more smoke arises to mask any and all blurred thoughts spreading from my mouth.
Inhale the scent of a once fruitful love, exhale out the pain for the tears I've never shed.
This room is a distant stranger now and that's fine by me because I'm clear of the danger, my mind is a different level above that sea.
There was a bomb blast that cast the dust that lays about this room so still like a deserted car.
The blast ruined every bit of what we knew would never last.
I wish I could've shielded myself better, it would've saved me the time of writing you those letters.
I finally saw you though, it's been so long, about two years.
I saw you and a thought inside my clicked.
The thought that you weren't what I needed, I'm glad you went away, that you conceded.
That room of mine has some hidden treasures, some hidden paintings, books bound with leather.
That room of mine still sits so full,
I'll end this letter now,
I'll put down this tool.
