Do You See What I See?

The dawn rising from behind the jagged mountains.
Blue, green, and orange artificial lights blinking. Taking up energy.
A crooked rug that will be my favorite item in my New York apartment ten years later.
The outline of the black desk that took hours to put together. Words of frustration.
Do you see what I see?
Tissues that wiped away the tears. The blood.
Superficial happiness lining the bookshelf.
Memories of a time when I was happy arranged in order from smallest to biggest on the window sill.
A shiny new computer contributing to the bleeding.
Do you see what I see?
Do you want to?