To what does the world owe to her beauty?
A beauty no one has ever seen.
Locked behind a door, a barrier of sort,
But not to keep the world at bay.
She speaks to me through concrete and wood,
Curiosity growing fonder by the day.
Her voice echoes off the empty manor
To which my ears captures
And my mind constructs an image of her.
I can only assume she does the same of me.
I sit of hours in that sturdy chair outside her chamber,
Engaging in conversations we’ve never had before.
With each spoken word we unravel more layers of ourselves,
Layers we both feared of discovering.
I mustered up the courage to reveal feelings,
Feelings that quickly became a bouquet of clumsy words.
She laughs at my blunder
But not in mockery.
I place my hand on the wall.
I hear her footsteps grow closer.
I imagine her putting her hand up as well.
The closest I will get to feeling her touch.
My Rapunzel won’t let down her hair
But granted me access to her tower.
Frustration tells me to abandon this endeavor,
Yet hope yearns to see it through.
I return to that sturdy chair once more
To continue our routine as always.
My ears prepare to capture her voice again
Hoping to be greeted with the sound of a door creak.
The bedroom light sneaks from under the door
Accompanied by a woman’s fragrance.
I long to see the face she hides.
I long touch the skin she protects.
I long to break down the wall between us.
