All corridors run back to you,
though they say loss gets less
the longer you let it sit.
And you’ve been sitting here,
in this hollow you left for a while now
Just a slither of yourself
with no new words to say
that might explain this empty.
And barricades don’t keep
the door from banging open,
every time a storm
or gentle breeze blows in.
It only takes a name,
or a memory,
to raise your shade.
So I given up airing out this room
with all your secrets.
Leave another hole in the wall
the same shape as my fist,
pretend I haven’t
when the moments leaves.
Re-watch you walk in
sit down
pick up your drink.
Re-watch you pick up your drink.
Carol J Forrester 
Your poem resonates with me, Carol. I’ve got a shadow that lurks as well.
Favorite lines:
“Just a slither of yourself
with no new words to say
that might explain this empty.”
“It only takes a name,
or a memory,
to raise your shade.”
This was powerful, Carol
sounds like a mournful loss but also a lucky one, feeling the duplicity here …
If all corridors run back to him, isn’t that trouble,.?
There seems to be a novella peeked at, and hinted at between the lines; the mark of clever writing, leaving us curious, wanting more.
Some rooms are best left not visited. You conveyed the darkness well.
I like the thought of airing out the room of the secrets and how “loss gets less
the longer you let it sit”.
I especially ove this line: It only takes a name,
or a memory,
to raise your shade.
Your poem is haunting, Carol, and the wistful and dark undertones struggle with each other to evoke both uneasiness and longing. The corridors made me feel uncomfortable, I don’t like corridors, they remind me of nightmares, hotels, hospitals, and my mother’s care home where she walked up and down one most of the time. The lines that poked at my heart are:
‘…you’ve been sitting here,
in this hollow you left for a while now
Just a slither of yourself
with no new words to say
that might explain this empty’
and
‘It only takes a name,
or a memory,
to raise your shade’.
It’s left me very unsettled, which shows how well-written it is.
powerful imprints in this poem – not least the fist in the wall, “this hollow you left for a while now”
thank you for joining in with the prompt with this excellent poem of a literal and metaphorical room
All of this, but especially this one line, has a lot of weight:
“pretend I haven’t / when the moments leaves.”
Oh that fist in the wall says it all… I could feel the prison-like aspect of being inside.
For me, this is powerful, haunting, and disturbing. There seems to be a backstory here….somewhat hidden…like the secrets and the fist through the wall. The door banging open every time there’s a storm….ghost? Or he actually returns….disrupts?