the room

the room is quiet
curtains softly swaying
              hinting at an outside world
(i’m no longer letting in)

creeping in on myself,
                            into myself
hesitating on the doorstep
of that body quietly
                                           being

i place my hand on the wall
                            trembling textures
fingers gliding over
              the quietness gaining solidity

the room surrounding me
a hug that can be
                            compressing
i cupped it with my hands
              (cuddled the absence)


the window slightly ajar
              the sound of birds drifting in

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