top of page

What the Walls Saw

Air bends differently now.

Corners remember

what eyes have passed through.


Drawers hang open

like questions I did not ask.

Pages no longer face the way they once did.


Light feels sharper,

its edges tracing

the fingerprints left in its path.


Nothing is missing

yet everything has shifted,

as if the walls themselves

were turned to listen.


And I stand here,

measured by a presence

that should never have known my name.


Girl in an orange dress stands in a dim blue room facing a glowing open door, with scattered papers, a chair, and a window.

bottom of page