Like a street lamp outside
a forest, the ghostly glow
of light,
your window shined
spotlessly with nothing
it seemed to hide.
Same street, different buildings,
level two and level four.
You couldn’t see
into my room, but
I could,
into yours.
Your room, your rug, your hairbrush and
your only
pair of shoes, why did everything
you own
look so much
like my own?
No filter, no tint, no diffusion
no distortion of any kind.
You showed
everyone everything
even what was inside
your mind.
I sat next to
my own
window, no lamps and no light.
I liked my room
dark,
seeing only what’s outside.
We lived, above
the same
street sign, I saw
into your window
but you never
saw into mine.
