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May 18, 2007

Trespass

You left the lights on again…

I tread through
the floor that doubled
as your closet space,
carefully weaving
my way through the
empty coke bottles
and scratched CDs
you buy everyday.

My foot grazed
a stack of worn books
you taught me to read
and I tripped,
landing on the carpet
I took hours to pick
only to be patterned
by cigarette burns.

I lay still
staring at the
signed poster of
our favorite band
before pulling myself up
on the bedpost
you normally hung
the cap I gave you.

I sat on the bed
and stroked the stain
that you attempted
to get rid of
countless times
with bleach that
only ended up
wrinkling your hands.

I stood up
and approached
the switch,
longing to touch it,
remembering all the times
I disturbed your sleep
and begged you
to do it for me.

Instead I turned
and retraced my path,
resisting the urge
to leave a sign
of my trespass,
even if it was just
a simple act of
switching the lights off.

For you.

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posted by Rax @ 8:41 AM