There I was alone in a room.
Nothing out of the ordinary,
Just figured that I'd hang around. Eventually find something to do.
Sometimes it's funny, the thoughts that come and go. Some better than most but nevertheless funny.
Sometimes I close my eyes and wander around in the dark.
There nothing but the patter of my heart could be heard.
Pattering through the hall of your ears,
hoping that every once in a while, you'll hear it.
Not too much to ask. Just a moment to say "hey I thought about you. "
These precious seconds we seem waste.
Here alone in two separate rooms.
The drywall felt my very essence.
A sense of sitting still while everything else goes on.
I guess at times like this you become complacent, starting to second guess everything.
The good, the bad.
Things otherwise tucked in a wall, covered by a plastic mold, a couple of screws.
Things are never as they seem.
Wood molding, a cosy semi gloss paint.
What is the true definition of balance.
The excess of things we don't really need, the convenience of dismissing things in the dark.
Things put out of view,
The shutter of a light switch clicking on, then right back off.
Here I sit tucked uncomfortably in the wall, made to fit in a plastic case.
Awaiting you to flip the switch that gave me so much life.
That one spark that truly made a difference during the day.
Would I know this familiar place without the glimpse of watching you leave back out.
This strong urge that wants to reach back out.
Even after you've switched the switch back off.
That I suppose is what makes it funny. The way switches work.
They provide a good **** general purpose, but no matter what variation. They work one way.
Always placed by a door that heads in, sometimes out.
Depending on which way you look at it.
Sometimes I just close my eyes to gain a moments peace.
Listening to the sound of you softly echo down the hall.
At some point waiting to hear them turn back around.
At that point I open my eyes, and find myself staring at a door