Turn on the lights!
And shut that door!
There are no words, only screams.
Get out of bed, get out of my head.
Shut that door, HIS closet door of reminders.
"Turn on lights," years earlier HIS mother had said.
Baby steps.
Morning routine. New.
I haven't changed the sheets in weeks. For today....I make the bed.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I change the sheets. Baby steps.
I have no reason to live, but I do.
So I brush the teeth and brush the hair
and put on clothes though no-one'll care. Baby steps.
All are gone - back to their own homes
- back to work
- back to their families
- back to full lives and others smiles
I ponder what to wear all the while
Though no-one's here to care.
A maid is what I need.
A maid to do my work,
Cause something's heavy in my chest that I need to address.
Something's heavy in my head. A stone is my heart.
The thoughts and cries of disbelief want a voice, want heard, want gutterly uttered.
Sensible me, self-preserving me, wants no part!
If I had a maid
to do my work
I could sit and fight and wrestle -- those demons address.
Baby steps.
Morning routine. New.
So, I swish and swipe and wonder at the necessity of it all.
As I dress another door is shut. Not HIS, mine.
Block the reminders, shut the door.
Save the sanity,
Swallow the screams
Dress in your go-to-town no-one-cares blue jeans.
Check the laundry and fold the clothes. the blue bath towel is HIS, so threadbare.
Threadbare.
I'm threadbare.
HE was threadbare.
The towel can be replaced.
That's all.
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