Thu, 12/30/2021 - 16:51 -- plvc

Coming back to this floor where I lay

on a house with broken bones.

one year has gone by since I laid

and fathomed what it would feel like to leave this behind


to leave the name that caused me the most pain

and the inevitable

the name whos’ creates a melancholy sky

then there’s your name who never said hello or goodbye


stuck in the purgatory of what if’s.


experiencing the year of change

yet here how does time feel static how

was this time wasted

or time well spent.


the posters peeling back from the walls

equally and uncontrollably peel back the memories of what once was

but what if those memories are what is now.

shedding a tear for every poster that fell


no position feels safe while I lay here in this hell

too far to the right and I think about the times that my cold shoulder was the only thing protecting me against the terror in this housetoo far to the left

and you’re right there again on the phone next to me

and too far upright and I slip back to grasping on to what could be.


these thoughts are only surfaced on the floor of this purgatory

a reminder of my old reality

that doesn’t seem so far away now. that I will leave

and watch as it slips back into the bones of this old house.



Paisley Cristobal


This poem is about: 
My family


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