The Room

On the pages of the accidental poetry notebook

Is a poem about a room, the one that makes the poet incredibly happy

For every day she finds pieces of herself in it

And revels in the chaos that the room shows her to be

But now that she has gone away

The room feels like something else to her

For every time she returns to it, it seems bigger and older

Reminds her of days that seem way back in the past

And all her favorite things belong somewhere else now

The stories she left behind are now covered in dust

And that always makes her sneeze

Sleep comes with great difficulty at night.

She can’t decide who is to be blamed

For the way she has changed,

Or for how the room has hardly changed at all

It still looks at her as the person she used to be

And every time she leaves, she whispers

this room no longer belongs to me.