In a flat
you think
you could scream yourself to death
and not be heard.
Pressing your cheek
against the cool of the sink.
One breath
upon another breath.
No word
for that.

In a room,
you suffer
inside door,
walls, ceiling, floor.
You could shout,
you could walk out,
it’s not a tomb.

In a crowd,
you might suffer with everyone in,
trade joy with everyone in;
too loud to think alone in.


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