doors (open)

PJR steps up

The parking lot was empty
But why wouldn’t it be, it was
Probably about 2 or 3
O’clock, and I questioned whether
At this point, I was ready for the
Future I was choosing.
But the fear of coasting, or
Losing you was worse than
Reluctantly choosing the obvious
Retreat.

They’d, closed, and closed
Implied that I’d have to take you
Back to your front door. I didn’t even
Try. I just went, and then I spent a
Second analyzing intentions
Before I shrugged it off, (it isn’t you
It’s me) and made my way through
The frame. It blew my mind you’d even
Said my name. Ever.

“Is this really happening,” I truly lacked
Ability for confirmation. I couldn’t fathom you
And I, two. “Well you’ve been through alot,
You’ve been there too.” I knew the implications
But you drew me in. Not in the lines, though
The way the wall now is marked outside the
Wax border. I’m getting ahead of myself.

I flew, and you just waited, talked, and gave
Me your whole self, i shelved it temp-
Orarily, and stood lower than I’d ever
Considered being. I tried, to your dismay
And may have felt exactly how you feel
When you’re displaced from half your self.

So we quoted things we thought we understood
And drank. And each time either of us did the
“Thing you’re supposed to pretend you’re
all on board with”, I died.

The highway pushed than pulled,
And nearly sticking myself in the
Muddied, fuel-less hundred miles,
I’d childly wept a lot. And then I
Stopped. Instantly, I craved your
Voice and body. I remember how it felt
To catch you for the second time, the look
Of lights in your hair. But there is more to
All of it.

Coasting, unsurprisingly, I lied and said
I was alright. But inside I held contempt
Because I was the one I loathed in sheep’s
Clothing.

I watch the open door remain, and saw
The look you gave as you peeked
To see if I’d realized the rest of
My everything yet.