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
