shivalihp

A house holds memories

One look over my shoulder, and they are gone

The house is so bright

So full of orange light

I have memories in that house

Once, we met. 

My hair was up, and the world was coated with snow,

and you

 talked to me with wide blue eyes

and a slippery smile, easy to fall into.

Two doors, both locked, neither mine.
Two names, one I gave up.
Two voices, both demanding I choose.
A home is a shelter. A home is a question.

They call us the lost generation, 

but how can we be lost when we see everything? 

We inherited the ruins, 

the sins of the past like notifications, 

the echoes of greed carved into policy, 

When I think about tomorrow, 

I see the calculus test I have not studied for 

and the five overdue assignments with long-received