You gave me a world,

and I moved in.

You handed me rainbows,

as if color could promise forever.

Time flew.

The living obligation beside me

ground it down.

The rainbows don’t come anymore.

Your world dimmed.

I sat inside your presence like a locked room.

You built another world,

I understood it wasn’t mine.

Everything looked bright from far away.

Up close, my sky went dark.

There were doors, yes,

but none that opened for me.

I can’t move.

The light has turned to weight.

I keep imagining the ending,

and it keeps imagining me.

Time flew.

The living obligation beside me

ground it down.

The rainbows don’t come anymore.

Your world withered.

Nothing returned to me.

I think about standing,

but I can’t feel my legs.