The panel is cracked,
but it still opens when
I pull it back,
peeling
fat ***** of wooden skin
to expose
whatever lurks within.

I open it up
just enough
to look inside,
trying to put
pieces of my past
memories together
even though
they are like parts
of different puzzles.

My head pokes through
and I can see
that old tv,
the Nintendo,
and a little me
playing Mario three.

I can see the
soft recliner
laying back
as my baby brother
plays with those
little lettered blocks.

I push farther in
even though I am afraid,
terrified
that I might get
trap inside
my previous life.

I am trying to
recapture
the parts of my history
that are true
to share them with you,

but the bits get
blurred with time
and details get lost.
Till, I can’t find
the rooms behind
the other side
of the wooden portal.