there is a room inside of me
and it is mostly empty
like when you’re moving or painting and everything is taken out
like that song by the weakerthans, “sun in an empty room”
everything is bare walls with finishing nail holes from hanging up birthday banners and balloons and christmas cards fading in the sunlight
the table that used to be in the room was given away on facebook marketplace to a college student who needed it for philosophy study sessions and beer pong
there used to be an old trunk of costumes and skins and masks, acoutrements of identity and people that i used to be
inside the trunk was a crystal necklace made of hemp, sweaty and soft
and of course there was the dirty angel wings
there was the scuffed patent leather mary jane shoes
there was the vintage black dress
inside this room there’s an outline on the wall by the window where a cross used to hang, surrounded in a nicotine stain halo
like with most almost empty rooms there is a small pile of objects on the floor, a pennant from a small town that i don’t remember purchasing, an empty coffee cup, a bunting banner that is sun faded, and a birthday card that was never sent, there’s an old bandage with a few rusty stains, trash i haven’t taken out yet
i cross the threshold and open the window and the air inside shifts for just a moment
i linger in the doorway for longer than i would like to
i leave the door open when i go
hospital vespers 