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Rooms
Rooms. I have a tenuous grasp on rooms.
Years may pass between visits.
New groups suddenly begin and gather within
Yet are long departed by my return.
I have to wonder if you were there.
Rooms. I have the greatest disdain for rooms.
So impersonal and cold
With industrial tiles and narrow aisles,
Their dusty corners and overhead lights.
I have to wonder if I'm alive.
Rooms. I have been broken inside of rooms.
Walls trapped my feigned indifference
As villains abused me after they'd used me,
Preserving my anxiety within.
I have to wonder who may see it.
Rooms. I have seldom said goodbye in rooms.
Overeager to exit
And proceed with my day as I walked away
I forsook tomorrow as a privilege.
I have to wonder what's left unsaid.
