It Could Have Been Gentle - poetry

you don't live with me anymore

MY NEW ROOM IS SO BIG!!!

(so empty)

I fill it:

a bed.

a bedroom needs a bed

what is a bedroom without a bed (it is said)

so a bed was bought and brought to my bedroom

a dresser.

to address the mess in the place that i dress

it must hold and fold my rows of clothes

yes a dresser is what i need to dress my room and me

a nightstand.

i cannot stand late at night when i sleep tight and

there does not reside beside my bedside a nightstand to put my phone my comb

my knighted gnomes who nightly stand watch on my nightstand

a desk.

a place to pile my papers and place my plates of pickles,

where cups congregate and clutter, pens and pencils and pretzels plague and pile

drawers demand (and they hold the upper hand) deciding to detain in their dungeons

prized fighters: highlighters, fairy lights, craft supplies, pliers, binders, letters, glitter pens, pencils, pastels, lab manuals

a couch.

a place to sit and slouch, hold blankets and clothes unfolded and molded,

hide dirty socks and boxes of trash that i stash, aluminum cans that i can turn

into cash, i burn photographs and stash the cushions with ash, fill the cushions

with rags, tags, bags of bags, i tear out pages, bag them in bags, pillaging

books into pillows, newspaper clippings, book chipping, chipped teeth,

grinding teeth, ground beef, raw meat molded into a seat

A CORNER

You used

to take the

Corner

What do

i do with this

corner? (what would you do?)

I'll fill it:

a fan

a box of hats

a plant

(you love plants)

a blanket

my sewing machine

(i made you a bag once)

a pillow

a yard of fabric

(your favorite color)

a stuffed animal

(you slept with 7)

a stack of magazines

(you would make collages)

a record player

(i don't own any records, but you do)

yet

there

is

still

so

much

space

I tuck myself in, the shadow of my couch is almost your bed

I turn on my fan, its hum is almost your snores

I almost sleep-

but my room

is too

e

m

p

t

y