To me you are nothing but a closed door
Every morning the rays of the baby sun seeps through my window creaks
Long before it finds a way through the hard-sealed paint implanted on yours
While I wander off into the crisp, wild world
Ready to take on it with all my might
Your door still remains closed, folded to its core
I jump, I crawl, I fly
I fall deep into the dark deep abyss and find a way to crawl to the surface back again
I dance
I cry, I laugh, I ponder
I swim through my life’s cruelest moments with the starkest of nonchalance that only the finest of actresses can bear
I live
Yet, the door remains pegged
Maybe one day the crease on thy door will gather a moss
Maybe, one day, when I’ll walk out of your world,
Drenched in red and swamped with prays,
You’ll open the door to clean the moss
And on a chance encounter, maybe our eyes will meet
And for the briefest of fraction that time can live for,
We’ll speak for the first time
Through the oceans of silence and the mountains of worlds between us
Maybe that day will never come
But still
You’ll remain nothing but a closed door to me
