Gathering In the Missing

This room does not remember me. Even when I pull the drapes the bright sky seems surprised by my alien eyes. Some overlong nights can unhinge you from time and place. I have been ill, the nightstand rattles with medications and the bed is in recovery mode. This walled-in dwelling dwells apart from me, it reluctantly makes way for my substance offering only a partial reality. Who walks now into my awakening space as if they owned the place? My familiarity is missing. I am reflecting; my thoughts flutter over a glass mind as I piece together a history. Perhaps I will explain myself later, or by chance bump into my life, meeting it again after lost years astonished by how much this 'me' has changed.