Storm

[lizsterine]

My black nail polish chips at its edges,
My room is filled with dirty clothes,
My windows are wet from the rain.

She says to repaint them,
He says to clean it,
It says to notice it.

I tell her that I don’t want to,
I say I’ll do it later,
I ignore the taps on my roof.

She says to take it off,
He says to do it now,
It blows wind at my walls.

I hang up the phone,
I get up and close the door,
I close the windows’ shades.

I climb into bed,
I hide in the covers,
I sleep to its song on my walls.