I live in my head.
The contents within don’t just suddenly vanish.
Though sometimes…
I find it’s all been rearranged.
I’m left to wonder
Who had been here,
And why I hadn’t noticed them.
Had they been here before?
Familiar.
A visitor?
Or an occupant?
Whose hands held the delicate parts?
Gently.
Will they come back?
Will I see them
The next time?
Stepping into the house of my mind
M.A. Padilla 