the pink bed sheets,
are no match,
for deflecting the breeze,
of the ceiling fan.
so i remain,
ill-prepared for nightmares,
and without armor,
for the monsters,
in the closet,
and under my bed.
and my childhood bed,
still smells the same,
of japanese cherry blossom.
and since i lie closer to the ground,
seeping from the duvet,
is a whiff of fresh cotton.
and a soft mattress,
that makes me question,
where i am,
when i wake up,
to the rising sun.
and the ivory shelves,
on each slab,
a thick coating of dust,
serves as a sign,
a dirty reminder,
of the times,
and how they've passed.
and the desk lamp,
blue polka dots,
printed on thin canvas,
make the shade,
that casts yellow,
and the light,
illuminates mementos,
from my life,
and it's one i could recognize in my dreams,
or maybe my nightmares,
so for now,
i'll just say it's what once was.
and there's photos of strangers,
but to me,
they never are,
and never were,
for they are ones who i thought,
would stick around forever,
yet today,
turn their heads,
at the sound of my name.
so it's scary,
and a slap in the face,
because i know time has passed,
and time,
is what should make me feel better,
i've been told.
and the blue walls,
continue to remind me,
that i'm getting older,
as they seem to cave inwards,
shrink my space,
my future,
that once seemed limitless.
and the crack in the drywall,
above my doorframe,
has stood for some time.
and it always tells me,
that even those who feel broken,
can keep going,
and stand strong,
for time remains.
