I realize, that doors aren't symbolic.
I've made a lot of similar realizations-- windows aren't escapes, the ocean isn't freedom, and roses are a flower, not a floral representation of love.
Closing the door behind you is not saying goodbye. It's keeping the cold air outside out and the hollowing heartbreak in, behind, with me.
So maybe I can't let go of symbolism.
But isn't some kind of semblance of a poem better then what it really is?

The door closing behind you?
Isn't anything better then that?

As freshman, we learned that our bodies don't belong to us they are for men they are for governmental dispute they are up for discussion and scrutiny
As sophomores, we discovered that our bodies are up for grabs, for touching and snatching. They are for men they are for boys they are for the camera and for consumption.
As juniors, we found it impossible to love ourselves
Because how can we treasure something that isn't ours?