I'd been wondering where the door was to alone,
but I found it in the basement
of this narrow place you own.
White in a white room
with metal pieces on the floor.
Paint peeled around the hinges of the door.
I went upstairs to eat dinner at your table.
And I don't know what alone is like-
if it's changed since I was younger
when every beautiful storm that I inhaled
was just one of the people who I'd once been.
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