So We Call it Bric-a-Brac

I sip this coffee slow
Don't want to burn my tongue
I'm running on fumes again
and the day has only just begun.

My head is in your space
Thoughts tumbling down like children on a grassy hill
They get to the bottom and climb back up again
with no real place to go
and superficial stains that can be stripped away
when the time is right to get out of our play clothes

My love for you is whole and complete
On a shelf collecting dust
like so many things we cherish too much to throw away
but we really don't know where it fits into our lives

so we call it bric-a-brac

My hands are tied like the knots in my stomach
and my body is the prison that sustains my life
My eyes close and I am lost in my head

Pulling heavy drapes closed on a sunny room

they are heavy with lack of sleep
unrealized dreams
and all of the potential I see wasted every day

These unspoken truths hang in every room we are in like a modern day painting in a Victorian house