The Room

You stumble into a pitch black room.

The room smells of lilac,

like the flowers your grandmother used to grow.

You close your eyes and all you can see is a purple ocean

with purple fish and purple sand and purple waves.

A hand touches your back,

the gentle human touch you’ve longed for.

Most touches feel thoughtless and cold

but this touch is warm, real.

No words are spoken but you and this person understand

that you’re both only human,

its not much more complicated than that.

Stranger takes your hand to dance,

and the two of you make music

with the syncopation of your souls.

But since your both only human,

stranger has to go and so do you.

You walk out of the black room that smells like lilac

and go back into the world with different colors.

You go back home to your fourth floor apartment,

you reveal your naked body, vulnerable

you slip under your bed sheets.

You close your eyes. Its pitch black.

It smells like lilac.

A hand touches your back.

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The Game of Life

 

It’s you and me,

we’re only three.

And we build blanket forts

that aren’t blanket forts,

but goddamn castles.

Castles of the finest stone

covered in the greenest vines.

It’s the best goddamn castle ever.

We are the princesses.

We are whoever were want to be

because princesses make the rules.

It doesn’t matter that our castle will be destructed

when mom tells us to go to bed.

We can make a new castle,

a castle that will be better

than yesterdays goddamn castle.

 

Now its just me,

I’m twenty-three.

There are blankets on my bed,

they’re just goddamn blankets.

I don’t know when blankets started being blankets

and that game called Life,

when did that go from a rainbow spinner and tiny plastic cars

to a bill in the mail to pay for my rental car?

 

 

People tell us that blankets

cannot make castles

and Life isn’t a board game

but something that we always have to do,

and eventually we listen.

But I think we were right

when we thought that blankets

could be goddamn castles.

 

Oh dear me,

when I’m eighty-three,

don’t forget that life

can too be a game.

Because were here to have fun,

not just pay bills on fancy cars.

But most important at eighty-three,

is to not forget that blankets

can too be castles.

The best goddamn castles in the world.