When my things began creeping at the foot of my bed
I started keeping things by my pillow
And when I stepped off my bed the books I hadn’t read were stacked to my knees the letters friends had written me poked out underneath
My medals hung off the side of the wardrobe with the rosaries I kept in case I should believe
The rows of bottles I used to sustain myself collect dust
Half-checked to-do lists lie in wait
With this many fresh starts, my head begs for clear endings,
not the ambiguity of things, but the clarity of nothingness.
The day I emptied everything out I thought my house would look different
Thought if I expelled things and people that did not feel mine
I would be free
In the end all it is is space
And what if it never fills again
What if all that is left are walls