Peeling wallpaper
crumbles to the floor.

A sink full of dishes
and trash by the door.

Here, in my head,
there’s a bullet in my wing.

Exposed, it’s healing day.
Give me myself once again.

New rubber boots,
but no puddle to jump in.

I’ll pick my own flowers
and the tree that I swing in.

Scatter the ashes.
Create something new.

I’ll open my eyes
and gaze back only once.

But, you, I’ll remember
And I’ll carry around.

I’ll see you while I’m dreaming.
I’ll see you in town.

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