Sky of the palest bare blue with an icy glare to ward away questions. Outside your window, crisp cold reminds you: you’re too weak to do this all alone. Try anyway, contrarian.
Someone steeped in hope left the window open, inviting the feeble winter sun to creep in. It warms like terracotta and goldenrod. But inside you’re only full of childhood memories mimicking everyone who came before you.
You feel much smaller.
Is this your psyche you’ve built around you? What's been allowed in? kept out? What golden doorway guards your secrets? Open it.
You fear lost innocence will flutter away in a breeze that troubles those eggshell curtains, a scrim you’ve not dared to pull back. You finger the scalloped edges and nothing more.
You float on the lazy wine dark sea that carpets over the mistakes and embarrassments you pretend to have forgotten. This dollhouse facade is built of an infinity of unbroken bones. A keystone hints at something exotic, buried, threatening to crack. Maybe an eternity of dollhouses. Maybe an escape.
---------------- words by me; image source: https://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/explore/collection/work/4157/
