I used love as a compass

but it ended up using me

taking so much that I lost everything

 

my fingers still try to read palms

searching for your pattern

empty-handed attempts to right all wrongs

 

I want to see your paintings decorate my walls

they stare at me so sadly cracking begging

to surrender to collapse I cannot seem to fill their gaps

 

so I drew maps to cover them they hide underneath

still dangerous and threatening

as if ignoring that they might start receeding

 

post cards from places I've never been to

or at least departed from so long ago

they lost all meaning

 

I can hear the walls screaming

remember

but I'm too stubborn on forgetting.