My body is like a house.
It has rooms that are sometimes empty
Once filled with laughs, memories of him and her, who I thought would stay forever, because I got too involved, late-night talks till past three, silly me to think everything would stay the same.
Maybe I thought I was living in my own storybook, where I could write every page how I wanted, or maybe I thought I was in a fairy tale, where I was the star, and everything revolved around me, but I've realized it's not always like that. These rooms stay empty, but somehow full because the memories of how we met and what we shared are still there. I can't forget them even if I try. Sometimes I wish my memory was like that of a goldfish, so I could start fresh every day. Because these memories often make me sad, I didn't want memories, I wanted forever, not just a friend to check up on me sometimes.
I've arranged my home like parents do, with rooms for sons and daughters, knowing it's temporary, still the rooms will be filled but one day they'll be empty.
Though these rooms are empty, they are still full in a way. I keep making more rooms for each new one, this home isn't complete without them, each person who comes in and out has always been a part of me and forever my home ❤️
© camvickbone