You can hear me. You just didn't expect to. You flinched; you're trembling and looking around the subdued midnight room. I whisper your name, desperately hoping for a reply.
But you decide to look through me, or away. I become louder. I know you can hear me, my voice is raising to a shout. You turn over, the pillow is over your ears. I can sense your fear:
Now I'm shouting at you through the walls, calling your name, my body behind the ancient bricks of the wall, my being next to you, begging you to not forget me.