When you say “Annie’s room,” I can already see the pink walls

Through low-spirited, runny, and blurry eyes trying to empty themselves out before leaving

Through the lenses of happiness when I dance around it.

You say “Annie’s room,” and I already hear a variety of music

I hear myself poorly but loudly singing along to Shawn Mendes

Daydreaming about the words in his songs coming true.

You say “Annie’s Room,” and I’m overpowered by the scent

of my favorite candle which smells of peppermint

You say “Annie’s room,” and I already taste

Different flavors of chips that I snuck into those four walls

So that nobody else would have them.

You say “Annie’s room,” and I already feel

The fatigue in my legs after walking up the stairs

The carpet on my back and my feet on the wall when I read

You say “Annie’s room,” and I already find about ten hair ties,

An infinite number of hidden bobby pins,

A homework assignment I thought I had lost months ago,

And a notebook of writing I never wanted to show.

You say “Annie’s room,” and I already want to go back

Back to sleeping in the comfort of my sheets

Back to shamelessly singing songs

Back to staring at the wall and daydreaming

And back to the place where I feel the safest.