Memoirs

Moving

moving

everyone does it eventually
but i've never done it before
as far as i remember
the red house has been mine all along
to move all my things from it
seems alien and strange to me
to loose the room he so carefully decorated for me
is salt in an open wound;
to go through mine and his possessions
and decide what to keep and what to leave
is an extra burden to carry

going through my room
my cousin helps
i have music on
background accompaniment
to a resonating chorus of:
'this?'
'yes'
and:
'this?'
'no'
the bridge of the song:
'can we take a break?
i feel tired'
'this is hard'
he points out
'i know'
i say

i bite my lip hard
and turn away
damn it, don't cry
but i can't help it
tears burn my eyes
and flow down my cheeks
as i leave my room
and run to his
can't let anyone see
don't want them to think i'm a baby
i'm only moving, after all
and like i said
everyone does it eventually