Six Floors of Silence

The doors opened on the fourth floor

and I recognized your form—

I got in anyway,

neither of us pressed to escape,

both of us rode through the storm

of silence toward seven.

Six floors trapped in the steel cage,

our reflections stretched thin and compressed,

both of us reaching that stage

where you don't say what you've confessed.

Five.

Six.

My hands stayed at my sides.

Yours stayed hid in your pockets.

The numbers rose as they rise,

like time had already decided

we wouldn't get out.

I could have spoken.

I didn't.

The doors opened on seven

and you walked out like you'd been

called to somewhere else entirely.