in the middle of an empty room, a ragged rug lies peacefully in dust and ***** sunlight

filtered through the only window, whose glass has aged with the wooden floors, the sun feels warm

i am sitting on the chair that sits on the rug, surrounded by books, and dolls, and many things
i am in that empty room, so overwhelmed

it is dark, illuminated only by a crack in the roof through which the sunlight has squeezed

there is nothing on the floor of the room that i'm sitting in, the walls are bare, the window is wide open
the moon rides the gentle breeze through the window and onto my skin

nobody has set foot in that room in years

just a ragged rug, and many things
in an empty room in me