There is a Staircase

There is a staircase that

separates us.

A kitchen that

confines us.

A room that

suffocates us.

I breathe as I write this.

I hear the heat as I type this.

You tried to smoke me out.

You tried to cook me out.

You tried to cool me out.

You tried.

There is a staircase that

separates us.

A kitchen that

confines us.

A room that

suffocates us.

I take deep breaths now, as you’re asleep.

I see clearly as you lie, asleep.

No matter where I turn, we are there.

No matter where I go, I am in your way.

No matter what I do, I am to blame.

No matter.

There is a staircase that

separates us.

A kitchen that

confines us.

A room that

suffocates us.

I don’t hope you fall down it.

I don’t hope you burn in it.

I don’t hope that you even die in it.

I just hope

we can walk

a staircase

alone

and

at peace.

There is a staircase that

separates us.

A kitchen that

confines us.

A room that

suffocates us.

We needn’t place blame.

We needn’t call on names.

We needn’t yell

and we

needn’t beg.

We needn’t have a well-timed reminder

that we are too close.

….

We needn’t be told that

there is only a staircase

and a heartbeat

that separates us.

TransAllegheny_MG_6176

(Image Credits)

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