Should I?

It knocked on my door
the cracked door that guarded
the core of what I call home

I have glued it so many times
sometimes with cheap adhesive
others, I thought I’d be artsy
and used gold
maybe something broken can be beautiful
or so I thought

It was cold outside
do you think that’s why it knocked?
It wanted some sanctuary some bloody heat
?

It knocked with all its might
I was alone inside, enjoying my aloneness
with glue, sticking together the remains
of time

“Go away”
I screamed, I knew who it was
the door was shaking with every pound
the core of this chamber was vibrating
rippling fear, well it’s not fear per say
but something I’ve felt before
something familiar

“I don’t want you here”
I yelled it the same way
I’d say it to a returning lover
fuck you and your doings

The wind blew and blew
and the pounding escalated
so did my screams

I can foretell what it wants
from the pounding
I can feel it again
just like how a song can ignite
feelings from the past
just like a cologne can time travel you
to that moment, on that street
I know what it wants

Suddenly the pounding stopped
so did the nostalgia trip
I came back to reality
with a glue stick in my hand
and a shard of glass in the other
“caution fragile pieces can cause bleeding”

My mind was not completely at peace
curiosity kicked in, OH LORD IT DID
I jolted to the door
and peeked from the peep hole
there it was, in a raincoat
standing there, looking back at me

Frantic, I felt my knees weaken
the mind sparked some logic
but the heart, that stupid heart
embraced everything else

Let me in 
I miss my home, I miss the warmth
I can see that you glued the door
the one I jolted from
the one I cracked and broke

I was scared, it was fear this time
mixed with bits and pieces of adrenaline
I know this feeling, I know it
I recounted in my head, making sure
it was engraved in my thoughts

but if I do, it’s different now
this house is no longer a home 
it’s cushioned with protection 
glued with experience
decorated with time 
and fortified by mental rationale

It knocked again
like an angry lover
aching to touch his woman again
like an insane human
coming off of his prozac

It’s time,
you’re rotting

from the inside, I know your beauty is eternal 
but it’s time you let me in

Tears ran down my cheeks
I do miss the feeling
of sweaty palms, of butterflies
that feeling of fading into one
of smiling, of pausing time

But I do know that if I open that door
I will be the
person
to throw him out again
breaking
my cracked door
and starting from scratch

What do you think?
Should I let him in
this
time
around?

or shall I wait
for the person
who comes jolting through
burning my door with passion
surprising
my core?

Portrait of a Heart by Christian Schloe

Portrait of a Heart by Christian Schloe

 

 

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