Boy Band Posters in an Empty Room
The wooden planks feel cold on my feet and broken heart as they scrape the floor. I drag my sorrowful body, inconsolably through the rooms. The living watch me go by, suddenly ashamed of their beating hearts.
Step by step I descend to her room remembering the dreams and plans I had for her life. It was a questionable young driver she trustingly sat next to that night. Sitting on her bed touching her clothes I finger the soft threads. Placing her shirt to my face I soak it with tears. I want to wear it like a shroud or carry a plank of wood on my back to show the world my pain. I breathe in her scent of vanilla, lavender, and weed.
The room is dim, her purple bandana lays on the lamp, the cherry incense sticks sit in glass on the bedside table, her hamper overflows with softball uniforms, tee shirts, and jeans. Her diary lays in the closed drawer, I hold it and put it back like a sacred scroll.
The posters of her favorite boy bands watch and to my eyes, they look sad. They witnessed when she danced as she placed the posters on the walls, her dimples deep, curls bouncing, her smile a song. There were even days when together, we sang loudly and gleefully danced, in the kitchen in exchange for food, our personal joke.
All this before she claimed I was an obstacle to her happiness. Before the immovable tree proved that wrong. The boys miss their favorite fan, as do I.
Author: Nilsa Ivette Mariano
Photo: James Wainscoat on Unsplash
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