My poems never made
much sense while they
float around my head.
Just useless words stitched
together to dig deep
at some inner beast
that roars in my soul.

When the door shuts
I'd stare at the mirror
carefully fix my hair
and adjust my collar.

For I want to look good
if you see me through that door.

When it hits fifteen
I'd imagine us greeting
introduce myself to you
and just say hello (it's me!)

For I want to be in your life
even if it's just a cameo.

When it hits fourteen
I'd imagine us talking
me making faces and puns
and you just laughing.

For I want to see you smile
even just for a little while.

When it opens at twelve
into a sea of butterflies my stomach would delve
I'd think of my imperfections
and how pathetic are my obsessions

For I know you won't look at me
even for just a second.

When that door opens
comes a tide of faces
I'd look out for yours
feeling excited and anxious

Will you be there?
Will you come in?

My heart would sink
as the door hits the ground
I keep on doing this
hoping I'd come around

But I didn't; I still yearn for that moment.

I hoped that by staring at your photos
I would get seasoned getting over you
Accept that for us there's no tomorrow
but why am I still drowning in sorrow?