Window Facing A Window - Blake Mills

Does the mute palace of an empty house

Welcome you back warmly?

The bedroom lights left on all night

Anticipating the low-grade sun as it arises warmly

Is there any other way to learn what ought?

A garden, for instance, when nothing grows

But dirt flowers and ivy

And things you might find lying on the side of the road

That seemed to look back up Eddy’s smiling

Full of hope to be eventually less easily reminded of

Are you upset?

Are you done yet falling out of love?

A bedroom with a bed that isn’t there anymore

The atoms, the breath, the sun across the floor

A catch of crumbs that you can’t do without anymore

The orange peel, the apple core

A window facing a window, the spangle on the door after the party

A picture frame, regifted, came wrapped in the same white box Shaped like a

heart, but the faded photos tardy

Full of hope to be eventually less easily reminded of

Are you all set?

Are you done yet falling out of love?