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Whispering,

The walls glare

At where I once 

Stood,

Telling secrets

Buried in me.

Whispering, 

The windows glare

At where I once

Sat,

Telling stories

Forgotten in me.

Whispering,

My desk glares,

At where I once 

Laid,

Telling lies

Repeated in me.

In darkness,

I see those eyes.

And, as I hear your voice,

My fingers reach

For someone who is not 

In this room.

I turn,

At the sound

Of syllables that spell

My name:

Nobody.

- Alejandro Bonfil