pri·va·cy (n):
/ˈprīvəsē/

The coldness.
The light flickering, once,
twice.
The silence.

Too silent.

It shouldn’t be silent.

Why are you silent?

You can’t tell me,
I understand.

You’re silent around people who haven’t seen you as anything but silent,
I understand.

A smile is easier to draw than a sob,
I understand.

But when you’re alone,
god,
is there really still a need to hide?

– salita project, ix.

LL.

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