Transported Into Applesauce

I strip and I'm pretty. And the little useless pieces of paper fall, fall.
I turn round and am startled;
There's someone standing behind me. As I approach, so does she.
Her brow furrows and she grimaces; this isn't the time for company.
Book titles.
Supermarket lists.
She is so silent; I wonder if there exists in her mind the myriad thoughts in mine.
They don't show.
*giggle*
She fits perfectly behind her wall.
I wonder if she'll give in to torpor.
Watch the carpet, love. It can burn.
New songs.
Addresses.
Find the yellow one down there, will you? It has a sticky back.