My countenance, a melancholy
After strange footsteps possess our balcony,
Close to my two-room apartment,
Now limitlessly a source of contentment..
I do anxious listening,
The hairs on my skin glistening;
My ears coming alive, a-twitching:
Those of an eavesdropper soon a-snitching.
A near filtering of the snatched sound,
As they keep gaining ground;
The fullest conviction that they didn’t belong to a friend.
Or...
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