all i see are colors being painted grey like robbed of a face or a name.
from summers spent fixed in one place we tore apart the way we once lived further away. an always empty suitcase and never any place to be.
i'll try to stay these crooked floorboards and bare walls and hold them back from closing me in completely but this is where i'll be when ghosts crawl in through the windows and where we'll brace against the wind when the waves come crashing through the drywall. An autumn spent chasing the leaves to find somewhere to be buried beneath some old and weathered oak tree.
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