at your door

what was there was always more than enough. there’s no path to knowing what is truly meant by the choice of words we wield to frame the way we feel. make a guessing game of an open book and spiral into doubt. lying on the sand a question sprouts to close a door I never knew had opened. it’s then I see the way you’ve drawn me: a broken toy at once both fragile and desperate for more. he’s pathetic and I am rattled into feeling embarrassed like a child; told off for doing something wrong, going somewhere that I shouldn’t. I laugh in shock at misperception as we watch the clouds roll in. clear skies all confused now, not knowing I know better than to play with hope or want.

left embarrassed by rejection for a prize I never played for. I try to pull some sense from words that won’t align with how we’ve played it out til now. you wait for me to change and watch the skyline of the city from the grass. I wonder what you mean and if I’ll ever take your picture again. we leave things where I could almost swear we’d left the risk of hope or expectation (at your door). a place in a city where we’ve been no matter what’s to come.