She was a dreamer, says the notebooks
Covered in words from a wistful heart
An artist too, says the multiple sketchbooks
Throw in a pile in the corner; and a introverted, nostalgic girl,
Says the smiling faces of friends and family
Taped on walls and in frames on the windowsills;
But not a girl for tidying up, say her neglected room
Littered with clothes and an unmade bed.
A couple shared the space, says the stacks of envelopes
Thrown on the kitchen counter and papers
Stacked with words blurring the page, and they had multiple children
Says the shelf full of animated disney movies.
Chocolate was a favorite, say the chocolate brownies
And chocolate swiss rolls in the kitchen closet,
And days were long and lonely, say the slowing moving clocks.
It was boring here, says the doggy-eared books read to pass time.
Things weren't perfect, say the bedroom doors
Constantly shut. Music blaring behind the doors
Say they were not talkers; Laptop screens lit up
Say they were in their own little worlds.
And as for problems? They were closed behind locked lips
And closed doors- not talked about aloud,
A pair of earphones and a lit up screen,
An iPod on full volume. Things weren't perfect, she'd say.