I’m a thief
Peering out of my window
I steal the “2” on your door
The postcard on your fridge
The flung shirt on your chair
The reflection of chimneys and
Chipped paint on your windows
You look up
I steal the look of your face
The unlit fag in your fingers
The curve of your shoulders
The shape of your life
There’s nothing
I don’t take
Constant Voice 