Life Here Poem by G. Silver

Maybe it is true: we all hate home,
I know at times I've hated life here.

I hate the tapes I've strewn about recklessly on the floor,
As they remind me of their contents' little worth,
And the sheer discare I've taken of them
Embarasses me.

I hate the heady, intellectual books I read,
I never know if I read them just because,
Or if I actually like them.

I harbour an especially intense dislike for the few,
specially-chosen posters,
That adorn my walls and door,
Reminding me what bands I like,
And what friends I supposedly have.

There is one picture I like,
In a buttoned frame -
It sticks out like a sore thumb from the others,
Being, not bought at IKEA,
but given to me as an unpretentious,
and unexpected Christmas gift, from someone I love.

I treasure that photo more than anything!
Certainly more than the choice junk
atop my sullen chest of drawers,
Stuff I should have thrown out with an 'I-forgive-you' smile,
And 'wasn't-that-a-good-time' thoughts.

Instead it sits,
And gathers dust.