#piningtreeforest

the room where my sister lived smells like dust and dry sunlight, sometimes a smell brings you back: I see the empty guest-bed ten months out-of-twelve obsolete, the marble floor with footprints of sand clouds of dust in the dull sunlight and summers spent reading yellowing pages hunched over the bed in the old guest room lonely child of shuttered windows in June, I never said, said goodbye or a word of parting but one day I must have closed that door and never opened it again I think of the family they sold our home to and if they ever use the guest room,   or if it still collects dust, if now we are both disintegrating