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.