Rooms. (An Anis Mojgani Mashup.)

If there is a room inside of me

There was a window in the bedroom.

with your name written in it

Her bed was beneath it. In the afternoon with the lamp off

the language it is written in is a lovely one.

we stretched on the mattress.

One of figs and birds

Sometimes touching each other, sometimes not.

and beaches the color of butter.

Sometimes our fingers just lingered,

The walls blue, and at least one of them 

made from nothing but windows.

the day laying across us and the walls,

Another has shelves of speckled stones.

the color of the walls mixing

with the sun's dead empty light.

The light pours across the floors

It made everything in the room white.

and the trees outside

burn with song.

Soft. Open.

That's what I remember.