I remember
Sky blue walls, with white trim.
Pulling my bed from one corner to another,
At 3 am.
My ceiling angles sharply downward,
My head bumps the wall sometimes.
I painted clouds.
I spread shimmer lotion on the daytime skies.
I packed in as much daytime as I could manage,
kick and bite against the night sky.
She appeared no less frequently, strange.
Creaking out from the sharp angles under m...