these rooms are quiet now with sheets that are unslept in.
noises steal in from the streets. the air within these four walls are stock-still.
time is marked by the third hand. tick. tick. tick. tick.
purgatory must give more solace than this. tick. tick. tick.
it's harder than i thought and the heart screams for you to come back.
let small blessings come as the children of reason and distraction.
i made my choice and the rooms will remain silent.