out the window

a poem

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Deafening quiet falls like soot.

Self-deprecating thoughts scream,

ricocheting off wall decor that doesn’t exist.

Each chair holds imprints of past warmth—

now obscure pedestals for plants I meant to

save from spoiled shrivel.

Invading the space with a

strange, yet hopeful glow,

a small window cuts through

the murky atmosphere.

Sock-covered feet introduce

the crunch of petals

that were once deeply verdant,

now jagged without jade—a humble

reminder of failure.

With each step across the room,

fear and courage tug at my shirt like

anxious children.

A

few

more

steps

to

go.

Floorboards warp, grabbing at my ankles as

shaky knees carry cinderblock feet through

this warzone of one.

But the window—it pulls me.

Resisting,

I glance back and paint every square inch

of this tenebrous room.

Stumbling backwards, the glow fades.

I’ll try again tomorrow.