Leaving
Emily Patrick

It was that time again when I tucked in the corners of my bed
Straightening the sheets with the tips pf my fingers without effort
But merely hampered with the thought of finishing too soon.
I looked around my room too many times hoping something changed
So I could fix it, following the curves of my books some
Leaning heavily on one another as if their content was too much
For them to bare, catching my reflection in the panes of my mirror
I could crawl back into bed if I wanted letting the covers hide my face
Feeling my breathe hot against my lips and stay forever.
Apart of me wanted to open my bedroom door, to walk forth
Untethered from memories with gracious ease like the light laughter
Of a child dropping her toy to explore something new.

There will forever be that hunger insatiable in me endeavoring to leave
Behind what I know for a life drop into that ocean of ambiguity.
I’ve left many friends like this room of mine, carrying the
Memories in the couple suitcases I own the memories though tend
To get lost along the way details that were so dear to me then I know
I can’t recall now and perhaps I am a detail myself to some person
Only finding my allotted spot among the paragraphs in that
Mythical book of time and that too, to sit on the dusty shelf
Of someone’s bedroom. Why do I bother do you ask? Because I can
Because there is something immortal in me that runs down my spine
Making my breath saturated with passion and my eyes fervently
Renewed with purpose of rhythmic grace. And so I with steadier hands
Clutch my suitcase with satisfied completion alighting my gaze one last
Time into the still darkness of my room. This silence is no longer mine
To rest in and so I close my white dividing door with only a finger
Continuing on this lighted journey alone.

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