The Nostalgic's Headquarters

I’ve memorized this room
It’s perimeter
Each ridge of the cold floor
I’ve memorized it’s heartbeat
A soft beating, blood like milk that runs through the veins of the walls.

I’ve memorized this room
And all it’s widowed thoughts
Prolific beginnings but now disposed fetuses lying
To be forgotten in the deepness of the furniture.

I’ve memorized this room
And I’ve listened intently
To it’s chambered music that doesn’t disguise
The quiet pain that echoes in the unfanned air.

I’ve memorized this room
And all it’s terminology
There is blood in the walls and death in the sheets
My flaws hung like an item on display and grief like liquid gold
Glittering in the stillness.
I’ve memorized this room but all you see are painted walls and lack of space.