I write your name
in each closet I hide in,
I’ve spent my life hiding,
it seems.
Sometimes i’ll scribble
a message beneath it,
the date or a quote or
my dreams.
White walls are canvases
begging for color,
a marker makes quick,
even strokes.
I leave your mark
on all I encounter,
it’s better than matches
and smoke.
Someone will find it
eventually darling, and
wonder who once
uncapped pen.
They might paint over
this monument to you,
I’ll have to start
hiding again.
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