To me you are nothing but a closed door

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

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