This is where I go to do my thinking.
I scatter my clothes and paints and books.
I spend my time looking at old photographs.
This is where I go to do my crying.
Here's where I go when the world hurts me.
I pull up the covers to cradle my feet.
Run the events over slowly and carefully.
Here's where I hide from you and your beauty.
Shut off the lights and stare at the window.
In a minute it wont matter anymore.
in an hour it will seem like a bad dream.
time is a healer, but only in here.