the things you discover when you spend the entire day in a basement are much like you can find staring at the lines of your own hand.

i watched the shadows change from the sun outside to the glow of my monitor

i walked paces around the boxes i haven't unpacked, i traced the lines of my paintings, getting dusty but somehow almost still wet

i listened to pinging in the waterheater, i counted the beams and the pipes.

i waited for them to come home, and when i heard their feet on the floor above it sounded like an invasion

these things were constant:

the lillies lining the one window that matters

the hum of my patchwork computer

the headphones cupping my ears like a lover

loneliness separated by wood and lead, echoed in my breathing, the embarrassment of tears sliding out from the corners of my eyes, making lines like a map to my ears, forgetting they were there the minute they dried.

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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