Stranger
In public
I am the walking quiet
of transparent air.
I huddle
humid and torrid
behind pages of my past.
Night will speak
to me. I am couched
in her embrace.
But when I return
to people, I reek
of her dank air.
I avoid getting saved,
the safety of solutions.
My heart attack is
failure under scrutiny,
reaching the world like
an actor of lost languages.
Copyright © Thomas Wells | Year Posted 2020
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