Time in Your Head
I find you of a
peculiar sort.
I find you a little
different;
intriguing to me.
I find you crying
in the corners of your
head,
swatting at the angels
that abandoned you there.
There are bars on the
windows,
and the glass is dirty,
furniture you bought
from a yard sale down the street.
The paint is chipping,
and it reeks of regret,
but I'm growing
attached to this little apartment
situated in the brown
of your eyes.
Through the walls that
separate
you from I, I can hear,
I listen
to the songs you sob,
huddled and clutching
yourself.
There are no
photographs
on your lonely grey
walls.
I held you for hours,
and hours,
and hours,
but you didn't seem
to notice a thing.
I won't make you go
outside,
but please let me open
the blinds,
let in a little
sunlight.
It'll do us both some
good.
Staying in your company
for this long is
beginning to
do things to my head.
Through the walls that
separate
your nightmares from
the real,
I see paintings of us
hung over the windows.
Maybe I shouldn't be
here.
Do you even want me
here?
I look up from the sink
I stand over,
washing the dishes
piled there,
and find you standing
in the doorway to your
bedroom, eyes
fixated on me.
I can see the scars
that
cover your illusionary
soul.
You try so hard;
too hard.
You lean against the
doorframe,
knees threatening to
buckle under the strain.
You begin to stumble,
and hit the floor,
pieces of torn poetry
scattered
over the tiles.
I put my hands, still wet from
the dishwater, on your
shoulders,
and let your head rest
weary on my lap.
If I could sing, I
would sing
something for you, but
I can't,
so we just listen to
the wind
playing with the
curtains
I hung this morning.
And we stay this way
for hours,
and hours,
and hours,
and no one seems to
notice.
You look up at me,
somewhat confused.
Was I mistaken when
you left the door
unlocked,
as if you were trying
to invite me in?
Was I mistaken when
you gave me a
half-smile
that caused your eyes
to darken,
murky and evasive
of light.
Sunlight touches
the windowsill,
edging towards the
corner
I found you hiding
under.
You smile,
and I think I'll have
to spend a bit more
time in your head.
It'll do us both some good.