A Room in Oklahoma
A Room in Oklahoma
My bitter yellow comes with me on walks.
It's a shadow of a past that refuses to talk.
It's a room in Oklahoma filled with quilted flowers,
A closet with dolls and childhood trousers.
My bitter yellow is all that I want.
A craving. A joy. A feeling of distraught.
It's the corduroy couches that pass by the hours,
A dainty television that slowly devours.
You don't know my bitter yellow.
The aches. The pains. The homemade Jell-O.
My memories of citrus always seem to sour,
My tainted southern vowels created a coward.
My bitter yellow starts with divorce.
It's a couple that carries lifetime remorse.
It's a sailor dress that I wore for an hour,
A dark-blue aura that reeks of flowers.
It's a continuous trip of graveyard endeavors.
It's a terrible feeling that drifts on forever.
My personalized soliloquy with an orchestrated cello,
A room in Oklahoma stained by bitter yellow.