The Songs of All We Made

http://www.flickriver.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

on a tuesday in the evening I

curled into the

mindless humming of some

colorful game show

going in and out of the

flashes of white-blue light

that signaled all around our

bedroom

 

nights are just

lamplight and the

turning of the washing

machine climbing through

these walls

 

stuck on repeat i am

constantly hunting little treasures

dish rags

t-shirts

a pair of your old

shoes

just searching for

sound

 

i thumb through

aged magazines adorned

with your coffee rings

i fold corners and

leave them open

 

the bed is never

made

i need that sense of

movement

 

outside the grass

is so close to

hiding me from

view

and I am content

with fading back into the

songs of

all we made