walls

these walls are so high and so old. yet they strengthen with time

they are beautiful, with big perfectly clear windows.

I can see out into the world and the world can almost perfectly see in.

but there is no door. no way to get in. only I know the way to occasionally get out.

sometimes, I want the walls higher, the windows bricked, the open roof covered.

shell me in, lock out the world.

sometimes I get so alone inside these walls I claw at them, pleading to the universe to free me and let me allow someone in.

most times though, I watch the world from behind the big perfectly clear windows, inside my pretty walls.

and I watch and I wait for my outside to match the death and decay of my inside, alone.