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.