Pristine spaces equal ordered minds.
Yet the truth of that statement pricks
an unseen wound ready to bleed chaos.
Books organized haphazardly on the bookcase
reveal aspirations abandoned to shiny new distractions.
Lipstick tubes gather dust in a drawer
when they don’t deliver on promised perfections.
Technology that connects us sits on a cold bed
reflecting longing for touches too impossible to fathom.
Where does the soul lie in a space?
It creeps in the corners gathering emotions
from specks of dust remembering
a life well-lived.