smears on the walls that remind me of brighter days
when the sun would reflect off the mirrors on the walls
when grandma would braid my hair at night and grandpa would drink hot coffee
when saturdays were orange peels and blinds that rolled up with just one tug.
learning songs on my piano
the mystery of cricket sounds and LPs of karen carpenter
the only thing that comforts me now are dull memories
the hinges on these doors
and secret messages to myself.
and even these tears are comforting
they remind me of the summer rain
when rainbows would light up the golden yellow sky
and tornados would rip through the branches of our willow tree.
when my parents were still proud of me
when the only thing i had to worry about was a nose bleed.
my eyes are closed to see it all again.
to grasp. to feel. to taste. to hear.
nostalgia is, at best, more painful than anything.