coat of paint

I used to fear basements

all dank smells and dark unknown

but I sit, afraid to face the things I miss the most

in a room crowded with memories and sunlight and new paint


I used to step on the cracks

certain they held no power

but lately I can feel the stomping

hard enough to break my back and heart at once


I used to believe in nothing

and count on early obscure death

now halfway to old age, I understand fear and belief

and the power of a familiar wall color on the soul of a mother


I used to look for direction in life

so many questions hunting answers

but I’m learning, I think, that I can only be found

in memories and sunlight, beyond the atrophy of so many friendly lies



What do you think?

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