A Conversation Between Walls.

She looks lost most the time.

Maybe not lost but confused or bored.

Sometimes the lack of light burns her out.

I’ve seen her move from

the bed to the floor and back again.

She stands in front of me a lot.

Staring.

She’s been gone for a few days,

only stops in when she needs to

change her clothes.

Good thing we have the plants to talk with.

She’s not one for much conversation.

Ah but what about the times

an other has been in here with her.

Do you think she knows we hold her?

I think she knows we hold her.

She knows we hold her.

It was not always her we held.

There were different things hanging here.

Different backs and corners

of furniture pressed against us.

She must know we hold them too.

We keep them separate from the rest.

Does she hide in here or live in here?

Where does she go?

Good thing we have the plants to talk too.

This room would be so quiet.

*Unfortunately the layout of the text did not transfer here. It is much more of a visual poem.