Borrowing Chicago Room #7

Everything was quiet
Our room was shadowed, silent
Hallways did not echo footsteps
(or security,
considering we borrowed the conference room)
Lights overhead were a hushed orange glow
and florescence attempted to pour in through connecting doorways
The room itself pushed against the light,
clinging to darkness, an insistent child

Even you and I,
a combined volume of turbines on an average day,
were quiet

Scarce breathing, I'd say

On the floor
the vastness of the room made me sleepy
Looking up was the only way to quantify the experience
(Forever was too short a stay)
Not often does my mind find peace,
the moment being the only experience that matters

Imagine what the cameras saw
if they could see into Chicago Room #7

Two figures, head to head, puzzle pieces
A horizontal Tetris game,
shifting and moving to invisible sound
but barely touching at all


Your lips were quiet, too
Unexpectedly so, when they finally found mine
A silent consumption, even as the hunger beneath was roaring
We talked about selfishness that night,
about giving in, even a little, to want

Now,
in the daylight, with movement and noise
and cars and thoughts
I do not know yet what I am needing
I know who I was, who I am becoming
Where I am going, what legacy to leave behind
But the mysteries of this heart?
They are not unraveled

That borrowed room was a gift of silence
Feeling cherished again, if even for a moment,
reminded me to want, to need, to be only human
A confused and hopeful soul
inside a puzzle too vast to be understood

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