Familiar

In familiar
midnight territory
I whisper to the walls,
telling of my turmoil,
my helplessness,
my emptiness.
They are good listeners,
these walls, with their
cracked plaster,
torn paper:
never jaded or bored
in spite of everything;
though the message
they whisper back
is the same every night.
It seems to me that
these walls are acquainted
with everything
there is to know about
loneliness and love.

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