#memoryandhome
I see your smile in buildings, you still live in my heart —
a part of me; apartment walls built up and down, all of
their tenants moving in and out. A crowded room, one
bathroom, toothpaste crust on the sink — my living room
feels so uncomfortable not living with you.
The kitchen light hums, drawing cockroaches out at night,
not even shy when we stare eye to eye — I guess even pests
get used to company. Cupboards empty, with only food for
thought to feed my hope.
Still I pray the rent isn’t overdue — the landlord of depression
bangs on my door at the end of the month, the middle of the
month, the beginning — _anytime he wants_.
We shared this house, but never lived in our hearts.
We shared this mattress, but never rested our worries.
We shared this address, yet got lost chasing after each other.
Now, the buildings are all vacant — windows hollow,
paint of your smile peeling off the walls, flaking down like
tired laughter. And every echo, sounds like your name.
Nov 4, 2025
Nov 4, 2025 at 3:25 PM UTC