Gothic cathedrals sketched on
lined notebook paper
covered her walls. She liked the way
they looked next to her window.
The view outside was nothing more
than the plastic siding of another
unhappy home.
You didn’t have to walk very far
to hear people scream, or see someone
sit defeated on their front porch,
nursing something to paralyze the pain.

Every so often two of these
people would notice each other
and sneak off together.
For some reason they always chose
below her window.
She tried to get them to stop
by standing right behind the glass,
and they would look but just keep
going like before.

One night a chorus of moans
penetrated her dreams
and she woke to just some blue
light through the window.
Her eyes adjusted as she walked
toward her sketches and below
her was a sea of loveless contact.
The entirety of the neighborhood
all locked in and unaware
that high above and always there
was her, with all her pictures
and her parents beaten bloody
in the basement.

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