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This room is full of things

is this heap of things

the best description of us two?

There’s a window always open

to somewhere else

it’s me

I try to speak again

a slow air moves the curtain,

pushing it away

irritation on your face

you close the window

silence

then it comes...

it’s a little

misunderstanding...

we’re going on

with this little

misunderstanding

you don’t understand

I keep on watch the window,

through the glass

the mist now spoil the view

the measure of my thoughts,

where you’ve never been