“The Desk”

for Abril

I built you a desk
not from oak or mahogany
but from the parts of me
that still believed in forever.

The screws held tight,
like the promises I whispered
when I thought love meant fixing
what was already breaking.

You painted it —
a color I wouldn’t have chosen —
and I bit my tongue
because maybe love is letting go
of needing to be right.

Your art scattered across its top,
chaotic, brilliant,
like your mind when it’s free.
And I sat in the doorway,
watching you spill colors
the way I wish I could spill feelings.

But then the drawer stuck,
and the corner chipped,
and the silence between us
started to echo louder
than any hammer I ever swung.

Still, it stands.
Crooked, worn —
but it stands.

Like us.
Not because it’s perfect,
but because I can’t stop
hoping you’ll sit there again
and remember
why I built it in the first place.

(Written by CGPT based on information I gave which centered around her desk but AI took some creative license on this one and I still really liked it so here ya go)

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