There exists a partition —
a cheeky one, winking at you from the middle of the room.
I avoid making eye-contact with it
lest it engages me in a conversation

There exists a partition
the unpleasant sort
the sort that makes you feel a whole river system in your arms, the world on your head
the sort to make you weep your lungs out
daring you to expose the aches and fears of reality

On this side of the partition,
the sun invites itself freely, lifting dust on every surface
George van de Broe sings peace to each of your toes,
wrapping you up like a mummy
the days come fat here, with a juicy apple in its mouth

On the other side of the partition
a manic clawing sound comes at night
the walls shiver and tremble,
as if it is scared of itself
a movie scene plays on repeat, voice monotonous
noon, nights and day spilled together callously
inviting wandering voyageurs 

For the merciful moment,
I am allowed to heal and flourish on this side
where I can brush my teeth on the bed, while you stroke the goosebumps on my leg
and I write non-stop, for if words could bind you,
I would say whatever it would take
to make us stay, maybe then this poem would keep you
hold you hostage in the trenches
of my soft world
I would slip love letters like stones
into the back of your jeans to anchor you
to this moment, this riverbed of mine
absent-mindedly ignoring the pummelling of fists
from the other side
of the partition