Blue Walls, Blue Sheets

Blue walls, Blue sheets
I live in a room not a large room, no it is quite small not nearly enough space for   two. The floor is constantly covered by clothes, letters, dishes and all sorts of miscellaneous things. A small white desk occupies a corner my laptop sits in the middle taking up most of the free space, on the right sits the antique oil lantern I collected somewhere in my travels, orange with rust and a fresh wick that will never see oil nor flame. To the left a white porcelain porcine a piggy bank if you will, heavy with a year or mores spare change. Past Mr. Pigglesworth a candle low from use, a bottle of air freshener that’s more for show then use, and the bottles of pills my love takes twice daily all permanently reside with me at the desk, an empty Starbucks cup is just making an extended stay until some free time to clean can be made. Above the little white desk hangs a humorous wood plaque presented to me by my brothers in arms detailing my inability to turn down a dare, to its left hangs a clock depicting two characters from Tim Burtons, The Nightmare Before Christmas, in an eternal embrace. The clock always reads seven forty-one and eighteen seconds because its non-working state its covered by an obnoxious orange squid hat won over the summer form a trip to The Great Escape. Just before the door the rooms only light a crooked wall sconce   hangs, off white and covered in dust its glass shape modeled after a pitcher plant casts a soft yellow glow about the room. Hanging off the lonely light hang a pair of dog-tags given to my beloved fiancée to remember me by while I was stationed in southern California. This brings us to the door, a wooden portal to the world, around the ill-fitting knob a scarf is wrapped to hold the door closed. I have always liked the scarf its long black fabric interwoven with yellows, blues, purples, reds, greens, and a what is likely a host of other colors my eyes cannot see. Upon the door two posters rest first no bigger...