a letter to the person on the other side of the wall,
your walls are thin.
i sometimes hear your voice like a weeping willow's swaying in the wind,
a kind of clear whistle that sings best through torn leaves.
i like to imagine its sound encompasses the space
between your mind and your mouth,
like an ever-present chime of
an ever-ticking clock.
i cannot hear the words you say,
only that they are syllables that i feel like i should know.
but through the carefully carved scars of your door,
your words become nothing
but a fleeting whisper of wind
on a summer's day.
i hear your songs thumping
to a heartbeat unseen,
it shakes the walls a bit
and before i can ask the name,
you press pause, and just
for that brief shard of time,
it feels like nothing in the world is breathing.
i did not know what it was like to be so acutely aware
that even the sloshing of tears in someone's eye
could sound like a tsunami;
or that a desperate wish on a fallen eyelash,
could plague my thoughts,
suffocate me.
A letter to whomever it may concern,
i like to imagine your name,
and your face,
i like to imagine that your room is like a mirror,
ever expanding inwards,
and i like to imagine
that if i knock on our shared wall,
you will hear it,
my voice,
you will still be there to hear it.
YOU ARE READING
Stumble Through Life
PoesíaPoetry Collection(Original): There are infinite homes out there, for all of us, under the shimmering stars in the roar of the night, or the dark solace of the shadows on the sun, and everything in between. And may I only hope that my words could bec...
