Distance

My walls are confused. 

They have only heard half of the story. 

Everyday I come home and talk.

The walls never understand the full picture. 

They hear me talk,

But they don't hear the other half. 

They don't see the beautiful woman in front of me.

They hear my laughter.

The words of love.

The occasional argument.

I feel sorry for my walls because they can't hear her.

Her walls must be the same.

Only hearing half of the conversation.

The rest muffled by headphones.

But soon my visit will come. 

And her walls will understand the full story.

Our conversations.

Our love.

Us.

My walls will have to wait until the day she visits me.

So they can understand too.