of the lights, of you, of me,
of us together.
together. the word feels obsolete but
it's the only thing on my mind
in this year-end hell. together.
still, i see your silhouette in the only bright spot.
i see you in the chair by the breezy window covered with curtains.
i see you smiling because
together has been forgotten in favor of it's okay.
we tell ourselves it's okay and tell each other nothing.
i think of the rooms and rooms of
boxes and bags,
abandoned by the owners because
it was just two weeks, remember?
nine months later,
i'm telling myself to take pictures,
remember,
and you let me play my artist.
her hollow voice rings out
through the empty rooms of our oversized house.
soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls that we once walked through
but they've already been decked
we did it ourselves after
everything said we couldn't.
is it festive because it's december
or
is it festive because we need it to be?
one for the money, two for the show
no one said get ready, but they had to go.
again,
i tell myself to take pictures.
because i didn't then, when
i didn't know what normal meant for all the right reasons.
because there should be something
to photograph, shouldn't there?