Chalet
December 20, 2016
Rickety seats and bright nights,
cool summers, proximal mountains,
all fade and grow hazy
under a new star.
Nobody takes these memories from me.
I say a thing can be beautiful
even after you’ve touched it,
even after I swore
it was ruined for forever.
I’m taking them all back now,
the theaters and cemeteries,
the antique stores, the lake.
I will reclaim jokes in stairwells,
and the blue tiles I stared at
during my first panic attack.
Nobody holds their record
except for me
and when they play across the silver screen
the credits will misplace your name.
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