if my ceiling could talk…

I wonder what my ceiling would say if she could talk?
She’s see so much of me,
So much of my intimacies,
Between myself, and those I let crawl into the sheets she gazed on.
The moments that made me wonder,
The sleepless nights she let me stare at her,
Unnerving and solemn.

Lines I created and burned,
Ones no one dared to cross,
Ones the wrong people burned through,
And the she saw the ruins it left me in.

What would she say to me, if she could,
Would she hug me,
Soothe me and wipe the tears as they fell?
Or would she shake her head and chastise me,
Mock me for allowing these things to happen without her guidance,
Or would she remain silent.
Letting me talk and scream and cry,
And simply be the pillar I know her as.

What would she say?
The ceiling I stare up at every night,
And tell me most intimate secrets to.
What would you say?

29 thoughts on “if my ceiling could talk…

  1. davidjhopcroft says:

    I love this new angle (pardon the pun) with the perspective of the onlooker being shifted from a person to an object. That was a good move, finding yet another approach to your work. The poetry was also neat, love made and then lost. Great writing 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  2. WildHeart says:

    If your ceiling could talk,
    Her eyes would light up,
    Every time you walked in,
    She would be smiling.

    “Finally here?,” she’d exclaim,
    “I was so bored,” she’d proclaim.
    She wouldn’t ask, “How was your day?”
    She would simply read your face.

    “Lay down on your bed,
    Look at my plain white face,
    And tell me all that happened today,”
    That’s what she’d say.

    She’d laugh at your stupidity,
    Chastise you for your treachery,
    Console you as you cry,
    She’d always be on your side.

    But, well, welcome to reality,
    She doesn’t talk to anybody,
    So write it in your diary,
    And post it here for everybody.

    Also, your ceiling can’t talk. But I can. 🤗🤗🤗🤗

    Liked by 3 people

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