Living In A Dorm Is Living In A Home Away From Home
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Living In A Dorm Is Living In A Home Away From Home

I bought candles hoping they would melt light back into my life.

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https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1499453525675-28bbc11dbf6c?ixlib=rb-1.2.1&ixid=eyJhcHBfaWQiOjEyMDd9&auto=format&fit=crop&w=1274&q=80

This room

As black as cheap coffee,

Its bitter darkness.


I bought candles

Hoping they would melt

Light back into my life

But, candles are a fire hazard.

They are not permitted to burn here.


Dad suggests I open a window,

But, the sky offers as much light

As the end of dying cigarette.


Besides, I only have one window

With blinds like horizontal prison bars,

Trapping me in a room of anxiety.


At night the moon

Slips through the blinds,

Paints imperfect stripes

On my pale skin.


It's the one time

I have enough light to write.

But, my poems only pretend to be poems,

For I am as much a poet

As the mute is an opera singer.


Dad asks if I've made any friends.

I know my neighbors are friends.

I always hear their terrible laughs

And often smell the smoke

Floating off their shared joints.


But, I have only succeeded

In becoming acquainted

With their shadows,

Which stumble drunkenly

Past the crack of my door

At two in the morning.



Yet, I'll lie and mention

Sarah from down the hall,

"Yes, Dad, we are great friends."

I only know her name

From the sticker on her door.


In the corner of this black room,

My mattress rests with its right corner exposed.

The sheet slipping off

Like a silk dress

From a woman's marble shoulder.

Proof that not even in my sleep,

Do I know peace.


Dad says he's proud of me.

His kind words feel like

Guilty chains on my tongue.


Every now and then,

The RA will intrude

On my solitude.

She'll make sure

My candles remain dead

And force me to participate in

Rehearsed conversation.


Eventually she'll leave,

Satisfied with my regular responses.


And I'll return to this black room,

Where I live

But, refuse to call home.

This black room I despise

But, am too broken to leave.


Dad asks if I like college,

"Yes, Dad, I feel right at home."

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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