felix-bambaboy

Before I begin cleaning, My eyes survey their surroundings. The trash that clutters my room speaks to me, In low overtones and harsh whistles. A lock of hair stolen from my beloved whilst she slept, Kept safely in a wooden box with other valuables. A reminder of the time I didn't have the courage to ask her to leave the world for me. But now it is only trash. An abandoned slipper, missing its reflection. From when I kicked a football into the lake, and a slipper followed. Now it sits in the corner lonely, I decide to leave it there, forever missing its soulmate. Cigarette butts jostle for space on a few ashtrays, Haphazardly arr