What?

The air is tense and snaps in places
Through no fault of our own
We require space
Darkness beyond windows to contemplate
(Like a child I
Remain hidden until I’ve had
My nap)
Because the world tests us on a
Daily basis
It’s a constant argument in our heads even though
No one is listening
As if we were even sharing
So home becomes a shrine
A sanctuary for wholeness
But most days home is a public performance too
Just talking into walls
Cleaning dishes outside of movie sets
The TV running in the background
Nothing but words
Sound
Filling us up
I have nothing left to say
Any more

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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