If I scream in an empty room, will you hear me?

She asked

Because sometimes this feels like an empty room

She said

When you rush past me, in your busy moments,

With colours I don’t recognise,

Sounds that don’t feel familiar,

And smells that itch my skin,

My toes inch forward, in slow motion, across the cobblestones,

Whilst you whirl and whirl about me.

She whispered

Bodies blurring into an air stream,

Around me.

She breathed

I want to feel walls, I want to touch the sides

Know there are boundaries,

My fingers trailing across wood, stone, brick.

Floor solid under my feet

Something I can grip on to

Something I know is mine

Something I can be enclosed in

Something to hide me from the rush of all this new-ness

She wailed.

But no one heard, in this new life of hers