I have these boxes on my bed,
And all these stories in my head.
They're tied to things around the room.
The moving van is coming soon.
There's this one man who's trying hard
To understand my broken heart,
And nothing easy comes our way
But I still have some things to say.
Now I'm not sure where all this leads,
Or whether he knows what I need,
But if he has some time tonight
Maybe I can do this right.
It's my last night in this old room.
The moving van is coming soon,
And all these boxes will be gone,
Stored tight in darkness for years long.
So I call my only love
To ask if he has time enough
To sit awhile on my bed
While stories pop into my head.
And I know it's a busy night,
And I don't want to start a fight.
"If there's no time, it's alright.
I just thought it might be nice."
He said, "I need about an hour, dear.
I'd love for more stories to hear.
But I won't sit and watch you work.
I'll help you pack. I'm not a jerk."
“Okay,” I said, exhaling dread,
Then closed my eyes and sat in bed.
Packing up would not take long.
I didn't want to do this wrong.
See, by now my life was strewn
Across three different bedrooms.
Some nights away within my dorm,
Where nights with him I'd truly mourn.
And then there was this room here,
Filled with pain and childhood fear.
I wasn't sure where this would lead
Or what exactly I would need.
So I decided I would wait.
I knew we both would be up late.
I could start once he arrived
And still finish this job tonight.
But nothing easy comes my way.
Tonight there was a hurricane.
It started in the downstairs hall,
A haughty and demanding call,
Then lifted up the stairs until
It brought into my room its will.
“Why aren't you packing up this room?
The moving van is coming soon!
Pack up everything in sight
And this has to be done tonight!”
“It won't take long, I have some time.
And I have Jesse on my mind.
He's coming over later on
To help before all this is gone.”
“You don't need him to help with this!”
The wind was growing to a hiss
And churning all my hopes to dust,
So now the rain became a must.
“Just let me do this!” I exclaimed.
I yelled into the hurricane,
“Go downstairs and let me be!
He'll be here soon enough, you'll see.”
Then I made a hasty call
To make sure he could come at all.
“Hey Jesse, are you coming soon
To help with packing up this room?”
“I'm not sure, my night is harder
Than I thought, and taking longer.”
“That's okay, I need to know
If you're coming over though.”
“I'll be there. I want to, dear.
I'm just not quite done over here.”
And this right here became my night,
A tragic and disastrous sight,
The hurricane hitting my room,
Then asking if he'd be here soon.
Every round came with more rain.
Every raindrop brought more pain.
And all night long I felt insane
As my heart filled with fear and shame.
But finally mercy came to me
Within a call in hour three
When Jesse said he wouldn't be
In time to make it.
And he was sorry.
And I was sorry.
I boxed up everything in that damn room.
All of it.
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