thoughtsonthebus

concrete walls bear words by

permanent markers marking time

of when you were present.

 

these are not four walls

but a cube of second skin

this sheltered silence

so often indulged.

 

This isn’t just my home

it’s our home

every.single.one

of you that’s graced

my house with your presence

my kitchen with your cooking

my pillows with your rhythmic breathing

my skin with your…

 

Alone now, but not always.

A different story, a different name.

I’ve walked these boards

a thousand times

and when they bring in the wrecking ball

those words will explode into the air as dust

indistinguishable from the kitchen sink.

 

my wild animal friends – your trees, your shelter.

I’m so sorry.

I can move , have to, move house.

They will watch their home turned to concrete,

With words by permanent markers forever lost.

I finally became myself here x