There are three doors that live in my chest -
the places that I've come to love the most,
and where the dirt and rust of ages holds no power.
When I light the sullen room -
bathed in tepid golden hue -
I stand stuck in thought - which door to choose?
Sideways spinning up towards noon
I cannot recall what words we'd said
and of my pain, only sentiment.
Buried here is my hurt in regret -
where flowers are welcomed -
never too long and only for a visit.
Here is where the lion's share goes -
revisiting memories entombed in thin clear film -
movies that carry on behind your eyes.
I hardly ever leave this room -
I barely never say your name -
cowardly, I seduce the past.
When my doubt was firmly behind me
instead of in front, as it usually goes -
I moved like rockets punching holes in the sky.
I leapt like a madman given new life -
I balked at the groovy desperate human being -
I danced like fire with the patience of soft rain -
I charted a path to each and every star
Me - a rickety old wooden house decorated with three doors.
@prufarchy