The pale room

So much truth in a pale room.
I must have been here, and not noticed.
A toothbrush, a bookmark, a clay fish;
Slowly loosing colour,
Definition.

I held so much stock by words.
On the walls,
Faint traces of lines I held to be true;
Smudge into a beautiful canvas.
An overstretched memory.

A mug, a vinyl record, a gold chain.

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2 thoughts on “The pale room

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