The Four I Know Better than One

I moved two years ago

My walls haven't heard much

I only own four walls-

The four walls teenage girls know better than themselves.

There's one brick wall

The wall facing you

When you walk into my bedroom

Some of the bricks look like they've been picked out

A different color cement is around

And between them

Where they've returned.

I think that's where they put the ears

Who are they?

Only they know

My walls, the ears, don't hear much,

Much different,

From any other teenager's

Four bedroom walls

The walls hear groans

What else does a teenager do best?

Groans from too much time done useless

Too much life taken away

The walls hear moans

From glimpses towards happiness,

Like spottings of unicorns, sun showers, dewy grass in Arizona.

From heart warming to wrenching puppy love and self-discovery

The walls hear sounds of crying

Huffing, puffing

Heaving, wheezing.

Cursing the cursed, demanding silver to line atop this dreary gray cloud

Slamming doors on the empathetic.

The walls hear scratching

A giddy pencil scuffling along paper

A paint brush grazing across canvas

Itching with a fresh start of ideas

The walls hear tapping

Scanning, typing, clicking at my phone

Alive on just a screen for hours

Ticking my time away

The walls hear voices

Conversations- any of all varieties

Forced, heartfelt, reiterated, unique, lies, truth

Talking myself into or out of things

The walls hear life

In its most restless sleep

Waking to the rest of the world's opportunities,

Everything past this gray cloud of nightmares

The walls hear life and living

Music- any of all varieties

Dancing, stamping, stomping on my floor to the beat

Screaming, harmonizing, singing the lyrics

Blood shouting in my veins

As I let myself loose

To some of the only things

That unravel my tight, tight, hold-it-together knots

Those ears hear all my sorrows

Every single harrow in the book of my life

Those walls also see me in my happiest chapters

Everything happens inside those few walls that are completely mine

What happens in those walls, before those ears

Tears me apart into red dust

Or builds up me into the tallest chimney

As I smoke with relief at the top of the world.

I moved into these walls only two years ago

A lot happens in two years

Who knew?

The ears. The ears put in my walls.