There is so much of you and me invested in this place
In the four walls where we built a home,
Now an empty space.
The windows jammed open, the paint peeling off,
As the sun beats down through the oriels
It casts shadows of accidents and arguments on the walls.
Metaphysical pieces of myself are left in this space
Nothing of real substance remains (Ha! What a joke)
The walls are tall illuminated by ribbons of the sun
But bare and blinding and white
They seem taller than I’d ever known
Now that all of our possessions are split
And run into two separate homes
Once again I wish I could
Touch and see and smell the flurry of wonderful things
You and I brought to this place
I can fairly remember that day
When we were snowed in
In a hurry you rushed outside to build a snowman
I helped carve its crystal ears
Using nothing but rocks
Then it melted three days later
(The seasons changed)
And brought with it some fear
A storm was approaching thick and fast
Carrying with it an awful din
The postman never came
The TV went dead
A deluge of screaming at the top of our lungs
Torrents of words left unsaid
A disagreement turned into an argument
Resentment thundered and flooded over
The storm raged outside
But never washed the slates clean
The wind died down
And our voices rang clear for the first time that night
Like the beating of hail stones on the roof
Then a shower of plates shattered against the wall
I can’t remember who threw them
They hold a lot of memories, these walls,
And once held a lot of fear.
In the end, that storm broke.
The sun crept through the clouds
It was too late.
The rain forged a dam between me and you.
(This was kind of inspired by yesterdays post, thinking that perhaps what kind of people would have discarded furniture into the street?)