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Robyn Kekacs Jan 2014
I think that you might notice
That I may have gone too soon
When you stumble upon houses with not enough doors
And too many empty rooms

I think it might hit you
When you walk past my swung open door
With no warmth to the core
With no bags on the floor
So I'm not the coldest thing that you knew

Honestly, it'll hit you
When the carpets unvacuumed for days
"It's so messy," you'll say
Like this is fixed with a broom
How's that house with no windows,
And too many rooms?

I don't fill my days with nothingness
I don't sleep until noon
For air, I crack the windows
And I rearrange the rooms

And it's fine by me
If you think
I can't leave a minute too soon
Someday I'll return, won't look through your windows,
Someday I won't want a room.
cypress May 2016
Like the hands I allowed my cat to scratch
and my unvacuumed floor and unwashed bed sheets,
And the ability to go outside and improve myself
I took you for granted.
im sorry
i made a lot of mistakes
Kyra Adams Oct 2014
My room

                                              is a work of art

on the unvacuumed           canvas

lies heaps

of U.C.S's

(unidentified clusters of                ****)

heaps                                   ­           that are only destroyed

during nights             ...                                 ...                                     .. .    .  .

that are fueled with       anxiety

or

just pu re
                    r
                   
                                      estles snes s  .

These imperfect     shapes

scattered

in comforting patterns

my          compiled life

in pieces   .

But I'm st ill restless.

The artist

is

never truly satisfied with

her

work

the mes s of          my                     life

tossed comfor tably to the ground

until i am provoked by                       ...                              ...               .. .

...

Each Article

I nd i v i dually held

Set    in   place

Stumb

                                               ling upon

Lost object  s       ... .             .

forgotten   fabrics that

held you unquestionably.

a nostaliga

art

revealing things

you were probably already looking for .

— The End —