Rooms

Rooms

By. MJB

Pondering A Cliche Absolute

“Would you rather be too hot, or too cold?”

“”Too cold,” I say, “you can always add more layers.”

I was born up North, though.

The summer air weighs heavy on the horizon 

with the humidity of an oncoming storm,

the dry heat of a burn to break your skin,

the chattering of bugs that could devour your garden,

and the hot ripples of light that dry the creeks.

The cold air carries no promises.

She is endless,

silent,

constant.

The only guarantee 

is that she will tarry here many months.

Perhaps that’s why

I much prefer a cold bed,

to a warm bed of promises 

that could wring me dry.

Farewell to 3032

These walls have watched me cry 

and wail

and proclaim curses

for a man I no longer miss.

(In truth, I think of him from time to time,

but in truth, I feel only pity for him.)

Within this white, brick place

I wrote grand stories, and clever verses,

I stained that sink a million hair colors,

I hosted evenings of joy and laughter…

If I could do all that 

to this dry and drafty room

(with nothing but my books and a mini fridge),

imagine what I was prepared to do

to his heart.

As I leave this place,

I wonder what my walls might say.

I think they’d laugh,

And tell you that the girl moving out 

opens her door much more often

than the girl who moved in. 

Farewell

to this little room on the third floor.

Thank you for making my strength 

match my kindness.

311C “Raindance”

Sometimes,

I wonder when we started calling my nursery 

a bedroom.

Probably when my crib became a bed, right?

But anyway,

this weekend I painted it blue.

I’m not sure why I picked blue.

I’ve never had some special fondness for blue,

nor a particular hatred.

A mild admiration

seems a better description.

Blue was a grown up choice.

I don’t think I’m a grown up,

but nevertheless, my room is a strong, grown up blue.

I painted over the sickly purple a younger version of me loved.

I think you can have too much of something you love,

but a younger version of me didn’t know that yet.

She didn’t understand how too much sugar rotted your teeth,

and too much perfume made you sneeze,

and just because it was your favorite color 

didn’t mean you needed to paint it the whole damn room.

The blue though…

I love this blue, because 

at first, I only liked it.

I love this blue

because he lets me breathe.

I’ve gotten to know him,

and learn him,

and match my life to him

over time.

And truly,

I love this blue,

because he let me leave the purple behind.