The Door

And so I looked
towards the door,
my thoughts lingering
like your presence -
shadows of indifference upon the threshold

To exit would be
your finality,
the escape of all I
once held as true;
my depravity the doorknob







The door has always been open,
but until now I have avoided
the coldness, the continual draft
of your existence

The other side beckons to me
with it's decadent hands of denial,
so eagerly awaiting this
staved immaculance

To walk through that door,
to forget,
would be my last act of submission
carried out in your name

So I walked
through that door, and I
left my shroud of naivete
on the hanger nearby
that is cluttered
with other such hypocrisy

© Cindyrella