paper thin walls

i’m going to kill whoever
is beating on these paper thin walls.
my music can’t drown out
the fact that i have
five more minutes
to move on
to face recollections.

i can hear the sound
of my own heart pounding.
i don’t need you
to count down the clock
because these beats
have been winding
at a slower rate
since you left me clicking
without turning my key
a final couple times.

a ring that once fit
swings loosely around
a finger that’s lost more
than the companions of your hand.

all these harmonies
are now discordant with
the winding melody
of your voice on the wind.
all i can hear, now,
are fists pounding on
paper thin walls,
reminding me

of how i’ve “moved on”


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