…offering me a key, that I never knew I had lost

In this house of madness, the walls bend like sighs
and clocks drip upwards, towards cinnamon skies
the carpets are woven, from old lullabies
the mirrors have melted, and my reflection has gone
there is tea in the bathtub, and a moon in the sink
and time folds me in half, like a paperback bible

I am alone in this place, where no corners are found
I can dance through the walls, and fade into the stairs
the windows breathe softly, and the portraits have eyes
there are deep, dark fractures, in the river of time
I am becoming the wind, shifting back and forth
between here and now, and the light and the shade

now before me a door unfolds, like an origami tree
and my shoes are filled, with unspoken words
for my quill took flight, at the stroke of midnight
and now something hums, beneath my skin
and the elevators, lead to all of the thoughts
that I have tried hard, to forget to think

once again, I hear your ostentatious voice
offering me a key, that I never knew I had lost
a river of clocks, runs madly up a shrieking hill
and the floors, are made of promises and maybes
I dance to music, that only my scars can remember
in a box filled with dreams, that is folded wrong

I notice that it shivers, every time that you you lie
and when over and over, I bleed for yesterday
I hear the soft songs, whispered by clouds
shaped like all of the things, that I never, ever did
sleep becomes a shallow river, that I can never cross
and I try to wake up, from this strange dream

but the room, is now collapsing into itself
in a sudden deluge, of unanswered questions
I find myself, finally becoming myself
the me I would have been, if I had actually seen
the dark voids of emptiness, in your eyes
if I had turned left, instead of turning right
© Ann Bagnall