Cracks in the Walls
Caitlin Bartley ’24
Nostalgia likes to creep through the cracks in the walls
And seep its way into my pores to suffocate me in my sleep.
The air becomes thick with memory, a stifling heat
That makes my mind hazy with hallucinations.
When it enters my bloodstream, I slip into oblivion
And dream of a girl
That carries herself with the exuberance of a butterfly
Emerging from a chrysalis, showing off its wings.
Nostalgia is a callous chemical that injects ignorance into
My veins and gets me high. The withdrawal is overwhelming,
The chattering teeth,
The useless limbs pinned to the bathroom floor,
My head in a bowl purging lingering naiveté.
How stupid of me to forget
That the girl in the dream is now a woman trapped in a nightmare,
That sparkling trophies and shining report cards
Will fade on far away shelves, collecting permanent dust.
I cover my petal pink walls with
Layer upon layer of gray paint
To stop nostalgia from sneaking by again.
I trade in a butterfly for a moth and exist in a hollow cocoon.