One, final ritual, before the 'Big Push' -
'Le Grand Départ...' I carefully
remove all the posters, photos
and cards from my bedroom walls.
It's a collage that's been growing
ever since I was thirteen -
created my own, colourful
wallpaper, it seems. You can
tell the oldest pieces
by their fraying corners
and dusty skins.
One by one, I pull them away:
reminders of bands I haven't
listened to for years -
actors I once swooned over -
their prized autographs, dog-eared.
Slowly, methodically, the memories
dissolve. Until there's only me left:
sitting, cross-legged, on my bed,
in an empty room with naked walls.
I'd forgotten they used to be white.
But, now, they are a noisy,
static white. It is as if I'm the one
who's been stripped down raw -
to the very core. My life scrubbed clean.
And I'm shivering - distraught!
A dark shape moves over one wall.
I knew you'd come and find me, Shadow -
so far, avoided our goodbye.
Still, you cradle me in your lap,
hold me so tightly - helping me to cry.