This room is full of things
is this heap of things
the best description of us two?

There's a window always open
to somewhere else

it's me

I try to speak again
a slow air moves the curtain,
pushing it away

irritation on your face
you close the window

silence
then it comes...

it's a little
misunderstanding...
we're going on
with this little
misunderstanding

you don't understand
I keep on watch the window,
through the glass

the mist now spoil the view
the measure of my thoughts,

where you've never been