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can't fault a dog for barking

the thing i've always liked about east facing windows is how cool the room gets in the afternoon. right now at 6:07, the brilliant bright orange of the room has faded to a dusky blue. i sit in that green velvet chair with my knees up to my chest and stare out the window and think. i pick at the embroidery thread i wound between the decorative weaving and wonder if you're kissing somebody else right now. i liked this room because it was the only place that had really been our room, every other room was shared with other people. here i was your best girl. (but the mourning of my sanctity of this room is worn off, i suppose. life goes on.)

i watch the ants sneak slow paths across the floor. i hate ants, but there's no more a chance of banishing them from this room as there is stopping the sun from shining. (can't fault a dog for barking)

my purse sits slouched in on the corner of the bed. i wonder about the girl who owned it before me. it still smelled like her perfume when i bought it at the secondhand store, but that smell has long since faded, now replaced by my own perfumes and the little bag of incense i've started keeping in there. i consider smoking a cigarette, but remember june's window is open and decide against it. the shrieks and giggles from the new residents below drift up, bright outside the window. 

the velvet feels soft against my cheek. i cleaned the room right after you left, shoved everything in it's own little drawer or under the bed or in boxes stacked on the desk. i wonder if it was right of me to clean it, but that's the way my mother taught me. (can't fault a dog for barking)

the pounding of my heart in my chest grows stronger with each passing minute. it won't ever be still these days. i think about everything left unsaid. 

(can't fault a dog a for barking)

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