Apartment 23 (#NaPoWriMo 28)

I remember chablis dreams and the clutter of Apartment 23.

Under the dust, I kept years, excuses, and joys

And reveled in the fact that those small years could still excuse such joy.

There, the apartment brought to a heavenly head

An open heart's last, desperate pump,

And I, made of that useless lump, a ship in a bottle

To set sail,

To see,

To sink,

To drink the saltwater and remember how dry I was.

Apartment 23 was a pit from which I never desired escape.

When I did, shock besieged me,

Though not as shocking as the returning beat

Of a heart I long thought dead meat.

That place still exists, a hovel on a distant shore

That visits me in chablis dreams, though they are few and far-between now:

Better for a consistent pulse.

And I remember:

The best places, you keep forever,

But they never keep you.