white walls

I sat down on the clear, plastic tarps adorning the wooden floorboards.

Pulling my partially painted legs into my chest, and I stared at the newly painted walls.

What was once a soothing lilac color, is now a clean, blinding white.

As I stare and stare, I close my eyes.

Those old walls confided so many tears, so much heartbreak, and so much destruction.

And maybe I thought that I didn't have to relive those memories if I just covered them.

But it's not working.

I can still see the footprint in the wall from the night you said my depression was too much for you.

I can still feel all of the tears soaked into the mattress from the nights where I lost control.

These white walls now reek of weakness and there's nothing else I can do about it.