Every corner of my life is clean,
Untouched.
Except for my room and my overflowing thoughts.

It was sent to me like a dream,
Took away from me like how my days turn into nights without me wanting.
Tea strains,
Flower pots.
The smell of mornings begged me to,
Forget-you-not.

It was always the smiling one,
The loud one,
And I am always the unchosen,
The unwanted one.

Blocks of bricks were put together in it's simplest form,
We've all been there.
How we want without truly wanting,
How we leave with the thought of staying,
And how we forget,
With the unwavering thoughts of remembering.

But this is my place.
A place that you shouldn't have been,
A place that should be clean.
From any trace of you,
A place I only want to remember as corners from a room.
Not another place that you've been to.

Though, you keep showing up with the bluebells to the daises,
Showering me with unwanted and non-permanent solace.
I don't need you,
I have once not need you.
I once had places to go back to,
Now it's stained by the presence of your skimming laughter,
The unearthly yet ethereal face of yours,
The one that I no longer seem to know how to;
Remember.

But I go back every time,
Searching for how you look like,
Immersing myself in lies,
That it's just like a dream,
A perfect fantasy.
When it truly is nothing as it seems.