By. Lauren

I know not of what I used to be.
All I know is poetry.
Would you like a key?
My poetry knows not of an invitation.
Walking in at 3AM.
No need to turn a key.
He's only there when he wants to be.
I can not invite him to stay.
Instead I must tell him to leave.
I enjoy his company.
Until I must clean him up after years of imperfection.
He wants me to write him, but I do not know how to say I must go to sleep.
He assumes my arms will always be open to see him at 3AM.
I am sad to disappoint him.
It's just he needs to leave.
How do I revoke his key?