Can’t stop writing aka Sunday morning


I slept in the guest room at mom and dad’s last night

The bed bigger than when the purple turquoise walls accompanied teenage Imovie creations

That room was mine and pink and rose-covered

before it was yours

I remembered, looking at the dent in the door,

the time my friend and I blocked

Young sibling noise out with skinny-spinny black office chair


And Doors weren’t designed for tug-of-war


Your stacked white cube shelves


(Wit)held buried treasures

Your pile of left behind

Copies of Christian punk rock

Unnecessary after synced with your iTunes



And our pile of sugary sweet teenage novels

Where hard work and


Yielded boyfriends

And summer cash



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