- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The door
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I still sit at the door sometimes,
I curl up in a ball and I cry.
It doesn't make me feel any better,
but part of me hopes that you'll hear.
Sometimes I stand at the door and I scream out your name.
I beg you to let me back in.
I screwed up.
It was all my fault.
But I make the door extra thick first.
because I can't let you hear.
Sometimes I unlock the door and I sing.
I like to think that a part of you hears me.
Misses me. Feels happy again.
I sit by the door and I take off my masks,
Every one of them.
But I never open the door
I can't let you in.
And I can't let you go.
So I sit by the door,
Curled up in a ball,
And scratch at the paint
And wait for you to come home.
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