walls

The walls have known us all along.

Seen the fights, sang along with the song.

They seen us ugly, they’ve seen us proud.

If the walls could talk, what would they say?

Would they tell us we were in the wrong? Would they validate or comfort?

Would they be traumatized by the secondary trauma?

I stutter over my words but would they know what I mean? Because they’ve heard it all.

Seen the tears, echoed the laughter. They held the art and steadied the furniture.

They’ve been steadfast through the move ins, and the move outs.

Housed the moments. All the moments.

New paint colors hiding the memories we never want to remember.

Holding in the secrets, only the walls truly know.

Held our bodies as we were pressed against for that storybook kiss.

Kissed our foreheads and palms, took our abuse when we lost it all.