anemoia

if she ever loved you, you are here

a shadow of every hobby

she hoped would turn to passion

dust is starting to collect

on her dreams

 

intricately carved wooden piano

next to her bookshelf

and her dad’s old Fender guitar

she hasn’t played in months

 

her plants all wither with time

leaving behind empty pots of dirt

and her record player sits alone

on top of her shelf

 

paint bottles were left open

the remains harden in the desk drawer

with a half-painted canvas

and a photograph of her mother

 

the red string in her sewing machine

got all tangled last time she used it

so now spiders make webs on it

at the top of her closet

 

most of her cds are unplayed

organized by color into perfect stacks

she was gifted them by her uncle

last time he got drunk

 

and she collects everything

clinging to her trinkets and stones

like they bring her life

she has always lived in organized clutter

 

photographs cover all of the walls

she has a piece of everyone

she has ever loved

because what if she forgets somehow

 

she sleeps with so many blankets

and she is never kept warm

even when the heat is turned on

and the window is closed

 

and sometimes her old black cat

doesn’t come to bed at night

instead he goes outside and disappears

to get some fresh air

 

and sometimes she

doesn’t come to bed at night

instead she goes outside and disappears

to get some fresh air