"It doesn't matter because I know exactly who I am..."

[gillybean899]

1

We are reading the story of our lives

which takes place in a room.

The room looks out on a street.

There is no one there,

no sound of anything.

The trees are heavy with leaves,

the parked cars never move.

We keep turning the pages, hoping for something,

something like mercy or change,

a black line that would bind us

or keep us apart.

The way it is, it would seem

the book of our lives is empty.

The furniture in the room is never shifted,

and the rugs become darker each time

our shadows pass over them.

It is almost as if the room were the world.

We sit beside each other on the couch,

reading about the couch.

We say it is ideal.

It is ideal.