I leave my door open
Not a little, no
all the way for you
But you won't come
You are about you
No one else
As are these tens of tens
Thousands of moments
You were everything
Piled at the threshold
Asif I cannot force out
Page after page of
My hand drawing cursive
While your face haunts
Holds my attention
So I wait, pathetic and
Patient, one day,
Maybe you'll read them.