Through the Shared Wall

Thin wallpaper, stained and torn,

separates the living from the worn.

Muffled laughter breaks, then breaks again,

a crash, a silence sharp as pain.

I press my ear against the cold,

wanting stories never told.

Voices tangled, half in fight,

like shadows dancing out of sight.

A vase shattered on the floor?

Or something more I can’t ignore?

The cracks run wide, the plaster peels,

and every sound the wall reveals

spills secrets I was never meant to hear,

whispers caught between the thin veneer.

The night folds tight, the city sleeps,

but I listen where the silence keeps.