Shut slowly. Inch, inch - quietly careful
Tirelessly weary
Ever so close yet seemingly distant

Before air could Not pass, a slight crooked hand slips through the seal
The eyes believe its a welcoming shake, so opening - inch, inch
It's gilded gleam deludes, the captured gaze. Ones Hypnotized.
Before you could open your eyes....

The charred hand covered in scars of the past shakes yours.

Do feelings come fast?
Hatred burns inside?
Do you recoil from the truth?

The past the present. Works the same. Yet if you let it, the past will hold - from the present....
Always, when your door inches towards you, Close your eyes and..... Shut!