A Bedroom

The lonesome Texas Sun was setting low
And in the rear-view mirror I watched it go

Lying on the floor looking up at the half-blank walls dotted with blobs of blue-tack, which stayed stuck there on the white expanse when all the colourful posters were ripped off, rolled up, and sealed in boxes.
When it gets late like this the cold half-light makes it look like it was someone else's room,
a room no longer in use;
the pile of books is a shadow toppling over against the skirting boards and the little bits of crinkled paper everywhere and the unmade bed are not the signs of lively clutter,
but of a sudden abandonment.

I can still see the wind in her golden hair
I close my eyes for a moment I'm still there

Shadows of trees glide across the walls stained orange in the descending city night,
without a sound, back and forth,
and everything else is completely
still.
But you can almost hear the echo of the door being shut for the last time with a short, sharp, weighted sound, deliberate as a full stop on an old typewriter or a hammer driving home a nail.

I wanted to plaster these walls with memories and little projects, maybe get the heating fixed and sit up here just because I wanted to, listening to CDs; wanted to:
it seems childish now. I'd feel like a vandal scratching the mural of cartoon strips whose idea had
so excited me when I was smaller, like someone engraving their initials in a wooden school desk for a legacy.

It's too late now.
The floor's cold with my back on it.
(why wasn't the heating ever fixed?)
The colourful posters are all ripped from the walls, leaving them patched with plaster where the blue-tack took the paint with it, awful-looking. The toppled pile of books is a splaying
of envelopes under the front door of a house where someone used to live.

The bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight
Like the stars that fill the midnight sky her memory fills my mind

A siren swells in the distance.
Everything outside the window is deep purple except for one lonely orange street lamp.

I don't live here anymore.