White walls, white floor
Brown, mustard door.
I like to turn the door knobs
As quickly as I can.
Stretchy long corridors
And a careless Apple core
On my faded, empty desk.
You left it there.
After you pulled my squeaky drawers,
Called me a dirty whore
And tore up the precious Polaroids
I bought for you.
I bought for you; blue
Sweaters and a trip to the zoo,
You laughed, it was sunny,
-I cried in my room.
I would have liked silence,
So you could hear compliance.
My compliance to you
And your rules.
White walls, white floor
Shiny, stainless steel door.
I like to feel the coldness,
The coldness of my heart.
