Dear Soul

It’s time to change you light bulb

and looking through the keyhole

I see it flutter like a drunken butterfly

from only a few months of burning.

Abandoned Sci-Fi books lay disordered on the floor

next to a disheveled particle board bookcase.

While aesthetic projects with eclectic potential are sprawled on a lonely desk.

Half cut and never pasted.

Paint breaks away from the wall giving it

sick blotch spots on its jaundice face.

I tried the door knob and it refused to twist

As a faint memory came of me swallowing the key with thoughtless intention.

Tasted like rhubarb and honey.

Picking the lock with a pen was close but failed.

I pounded the door, kicked, to no response.

Giving up, I fell to my knees like a kid having a tantrum.

My heart, as meek as your glow, came to a rest on the keyhole.

Arms up like an arrest on the door from rejection

You got me.

I couldn’t break in.

Why should I have to if it’s mine?

It’s better to surrender.

The door opened after aggression became affection

And I wept like I won something.

For the forgotten room is you, my soul.

I’ll finish cutting and glue together my puzzle pieces of artwork.

Put the books on the to-read shelf and remember there is always room for more.

More to have and even more to give.

It’s time to change your light bulb to energy saving.

And redecorate.

No doors included. 


~Writer Yogi