he sings:
all he wants is nothing more
than to hear her knocking at his door.
& all i want is nothing more
than to be the one opening up my own.
she walks through streets of calmed anxiety,
a technique she has nailed into closed doors.
tranced, coffee sipping, malamente listening;
she lives in her mind for the hours she has to rest.
the summer soars; the light winds are for
whisking away the days til she returns.
though today she practices for the worser days,
she can’t help but realise these are more than okay.