There’s something about the light crashing against the walls,
or maybe it’s the way her sheets lie on the floor,
the way scattered textbooks bleed into the carpet,
the way her computer screen glints off her glasses,
the way the silence covers everything,
becomes everything.
And yet there’s still something beyond the silence,
a sound within soundless breaths
that shines across her face,
fills her with a thought
that within the hazy textbooks
is a life—
There’s something about her light crashing against the walls . . .