In the room with curtains, no walls to bind,
The wind walks in like an old, lost friend.
A one-eyed cat keeps watch, half-blind,
While silence curls at each loosened end.
The city hums through fabric thin,
A breathless space that does not keep.
No door to close, no way to win—
Just wind, and fur, and nights without sleep.
And one soft eye that never weeps.