Window

I want you to know I’m sitting infront of the window in your room,and it saddens me.

Because I didn’t used to sit infront of a window when I sat infront of a window.I’m sitting infront of the back of the house of someone whose lights are always turned off,and curtains are always drawn closed.So my mind traces its fingertips on the walls that are unpainted to the crinkles on his or her sheets,to the closed eyelids and it’s veins that are no longer pulsating.Someone behind my house is dead,no wonder the air cond is always on.And no one knows.

Then my mind makes its way to the next house,whose windows are always open,like there’s nothing to hide.There’s a rubik’s cube by the window but it’s always been there since day one.The windows are open at night,even in 3 in the morning.The curtains are always baby blue and unchanged.Nothing was touched in the room.Every dust was laid still and accumulated because no one cleaned it.The bedlight was unbroken because no one fought in there.It’s a ghost room.

Someone’s already left.Then I’ll think of you,because you left.I used to think you abandoned me,but I know you didn’t now.Because we used to be two converging lines,like an unbroken dna,like a half chewed long sour candy.Now we’re two parallel lines,that will eventually only meet somewhere way way behind the x axis.except,our somewhere is the summer breaks you have.I used to think all that,just by sitting infront of this window.And I couldn’t help but wonder what do you think about when yu look out of this window.Do you even look out of this window?

Now,I’m sitting infront of this window,and nothing came.Because right now,all i see,is a motherfucking window.

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